& 


CSIX.  .OE  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


HUNKINS 


H u n k ins 


BY 


SAMUEL  G.  BLYTHE 

AUTHOR    OF   "A  WESTERN  WARWICK," 
"THE  FAKERS,"  ETC. 


NEW    YORK 

GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,    1919, 

BY  GEORGE   H.   DORAN  COMPANY 


COPYBIGHT,    1919,   BY  THE  CURTIS  PTJBIISHINO  COMPANY 
PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED   STATES  OF  AMERICA 


TO  MY  SON 
STUART  O.  BLYTHE 


2125619 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  DAD  POOH-POOHS .  11 

II  MY  FRIENDS  SCOFF 20 

III  THE  DIRECTORS  DEPRECATE       ....  32 

IV  STEVE  Fox  APPROVES 44 

V  I  HEAR  OF  DOWD 56 

VI  DOWD  SETS  ME  STRAIGHT 64 

VII  I  MEET  HUNKINS 73 

VIII  ME — AN  ALDERMAN! 84 

IX  STEVE  Fox  PRINTS  IT 93 

X  I  MEET  Miss  CRAWFORD 104 

XI  I  HEAR  SOME  THINGS 118 

XII  I  ACCEPT  THE  NOMINATION 127 

XIII  THE  BEEFSTEAK  PARTY 137 

XIV  RUDOLPH  PLAYS  POKER 150 

XV  A  CALL  TO  ARMS 157 

XVI  THE  PLAN  OF  CAMPAIGN 175 

XVII  WE  GIVE  BATTLE .183 

XVIII  THE  STRATEGY  OF  HUNKINS       ....  196 

XIX  PERKINS  NEEDS  $40,000 209 

XX  A  DISCOURSE  ON  WOMEN 218 

XXI  HUNKINS  PICKS  PERKINS 229 

XXII  I  PICK  MYSELF 242 

XXIII  TALBOT  FOR  MAYOR 249 

XXIV  WE  GET  UNDER  WAY 259 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXV    MR.  PERKINS  ENTERS 269 

XXVI    THERE  is  GREAT  TURMOIL 277 

XXVII     HUNKINS  TALKS 286 

XXVIII     PREPARING  FOR  TROUBLE 296 

XXIX     DOWD  is  DELAYED 304 

XXX    THE  FIGHT  IN  RATTIGAN'S 314 

XXXI     I  SEEK  INFORMATION 327 

XXXII    THE  ACCUSING  MINUTES 338 

XXXIII  HUNKINS  TALKS  AGAIN 347 

XXXIV  Two  WINNERS 360 


HUNKINS 


Hunk  ins 

CHAPTER  I 

DAD  POOH-POOHS 


DAD,"  I  said,  "I  am  going  into  politics." 
Dad  sat  up  in  his  chair  with  a  jerk,  and 
bored  into  me  with  those  eyes  of  his.    Dad's 
eyes  are  devastating.     He  turns  them  on 
you,  and  you  can  feel  them  searing  through  you  and 
searching  your  soul. 

"With  what?"  The  two  words  exploded  like  fire- 
crackers. 

That  was  Dad.  I  had  a  half  hope  that  I  might 
lead  him  into  a  discussion  over  my  plan,  but  I  saw 
immediately  that  he  was  not  rising  to  any  feeble  lure 
of  mine  that  morning.  He  wasn't  in  a  mood  to  toler- 
ate debate,  and  insisted  on  knowing,  at  once,  the  object 
of  the  meeting.  I  was  barely  inside  the  door  before  he 
impaled  me  on  the  main  point. 
"With  what?" 

I  wasn't  prepared  to  answer.  In  fine,  I  didn't  know 
the  answer.  The  only  commodity  I  have  for  going 
into  politics  is  a  high  resolve.  I  feel  the  urge  of  it, 
and  have  ever  since  I  left  the  Army.  I  know  that 
many  things  are  wrong,  and  I  have  a  sort  of  a  convic- 

ii 


12  HUNKINS 

tion  that  I  may  take  steps  to  right  some  of  the  wrong 
things.  No  details  are  ready.  I  have  no  plan  beyond 
the  vague  one  that  as  our  local  politics  is  rotten  the  ob- 
vious thing  to  do  to  purify  those  politics.  All  I  can 
offer  is  the  germ  of  an  idea,  and  germs  of  ideas  get  no- 
where with  Dad.  He  wants — demands — complete 
specifications. 

I  had  to  say  something.  Nothing  annoys  Dad  like 
hesitation.  If  you  ask  him  a  question  he  has  it  an- 
swered before  you  are  finished.  If  he  asks  you  a  ques- 
tion he  expects  the  same  acceleration.  I  inventoried 
my  mind  hurriedly.  There  was  nothing  suitable  in 
stock.  So  I  struck  a  sort  of  an  attitude,  made  myself 
look  as  a  potential  young  crusader  ought  to  look,  as  I 
envisaged  one,  and  hit  the  highest  spot  I  could  by 
declaiming,  earnestly:  "With  all  my  heart  I" 

"Equipment's  not  sufficient,"  said  Dad.  He  turned 
back  to  his  desk. 

"But,  Dad,"  I  protested,  "give  me  a  chance  to  talk 

it  over  with  you  before  you  decide  against  me.  I — 
j » 

Dad  swung  around  in  his  chair  and  pulled  his  right 
eyebrow.  That  is  a  bad  sign.  Whenever  Dad  pulls 
his  right  eyebrow  the  rapids  are  just  below  the  person 
he  pulls  them  at. 

"All  right.  Let's  discuss  this  fool  proposal.  Now, 
start  all  over  again.  What  did  you  say?" 

"I  said  I  am  going  into  politics." 

"Not  with  my  money." 

Dad  pulled  at  that  eyebrow  so  furiously  I  thought 
he  would  tear  it  out  by  the  roots.  I  hoped  he  wouldn't. 
Dad  would  look  odd  with  only  one  big,  shaggy  eye- 


DAD  POOH-POOHS  13 

brow.  It  would  spoil  the  effect  of  his  rugged  face, 
and  leave  him  at  a  frightful  loss  whenever  he  de- 
sires, and  intends,  to  jump  on  the  quivering  form  of 
one  of  his  business  adversaries  or  associates.  That 
was  only  a  fleeting  impression,  and  I  dismissed  it. 
Other  and  more  important  matters  pressed  on  me.  It 
was  essential  to  continue  that  conversation.  I  must 
show  Dad  that  he  cannot  floor  me  in  the  first  round. 
Indignation  was  my  cue. 

"I  haven't  asked  you  for  any  money,"  I  said,  at- 
tempting to  voice  a  clear  and  ringing  protest. 

"No,  but  you  will.  So  it's  just  as  well  to  get  that 
part  of  it  settled  in  advance.  Go  ahead." 

The  difficulties  piled  upon  me.  I  came  hoping  to 
interest  Dad  in  an  unselfish,  patriotic,  municipal  re- 
form, and  Dad  put  it  all  on  a  crass  financial  basis  before 
I  had  finished  the  preliminary  announcement.  It  was 
disheartening.  But  Dad  always  does  lack  imagination, 
except  in  business.  He  is  a  pioneer,  some  say  a  bucca- 
neer, in  that,  but  in  other  affairs  he  is  conventional  as  a 
china  egg.  Nothing  exists  for  him  but  business.  He 
lives  it,  sleeps  it  and  eats  it.  You  lay  a  proposition 
before  Dad  and  he  has  it  separated  into  dollars  and 
cents  before  you  have  estimated  the  preliminary  cost. 
He  is  a  wizard  that  way.  And  cold  as  a  wedge. 

"Go  ahead,"  said  Dad,  again,  still  pulling  at  that 
eyebrow. 

"Well,  it's  this  way:  You  know  how  rotten  this 
city  administration  is,  and  has  been  for  a  good  many 
years.  I've  heard  about  it  since  I  was  a  boy.  You 
know  that  there  have  been  a  good  many  attempts  to 
clean  it  up,  and  that  these  attempts  have  failed,  or 


14  HUNKINS 

only  partially  succeeded,  because  there  was  little  or 
no  organization  behind  them,  and  that  the  reformers 
usually  got  tired  after  a  year  or  two  and  the  old  gang 
slid  back  into  power.  You  know  that  there  are  enough 
votes  available  to  wipe  out  that  City  Hall  crowd.  All 
that  is  needed  is  intelligent  organization  and  applica- 
tion. The  raw  material  is  here.  It  is  only  necessary 
to  manufacture  that  raw  material  into  a  cohesive  polit- 
ical body  to  do  the  trick." 

I  rather  fancied  that  "raw  material"  touch.  That's 
Dad's  business,  making  raw  material  into  things. 

"Quite  right,"  said  Dad,  giving  no  sign  that  he  had 
observed  my  figurative  speech.  "Excellently  stated. 
All  it  needs  is  intelligent  organization,  and,  if  I  under- 
stand you  correctly,  you  claim  to  have  that  organizing 
intelligence." 

"Now,  Dad,"  ^protested. 

"Wait  a  minute.  You  come  in  here  with  the  an- 
nouncement that  you  are  going  into  politics.  Then  you 
state  the  political  case  as  it  exists  here.  You  say  that 
conditions  may  be  bettered  by  organization.  Hence, 
I  must  deduce  that  you  intend  to  do  the  organizing. 
Let's  get  to  the  bottom  of  this.  Where  did  you  get 
this  idea?" 

"In  France." 

"Pish!"  said  Dad.  "Merely  because  you  were  pro- 
moted from  second  lieutenant  to  captain  you  mustn't 
think  you  can  come  back  here  and  reform  a  condition 
that  has  existed  for  thirty  years.  Those  two  bars  on 
your  shoulders  don't  make  a  political  leader  out  of 
you.  Deflate  yourself,  and  after  you  have  had  a  rest 
get  back  into  the  business." 


DAD  POOH-POOHS  15 

That  really  made  me  angry.  Dad  was  still  pulling 
at  his  eyebrow,  but  I  walked  over  to  his  desk  and 
pounded  on  it  a  little.  Not  too  violently.  I  knew  bet- 
ter than  that.  Just  a  few  bangs  with  my  fist  to  show 
earnestness.  Then  I  cut  loose. 

"It  isn't  that  at  all.  I  am  not  setting  myself  up  as 
a  political  leader,  but  I  know  a  few  things,  just  the 
same.  I  was  in  the  Army  for  a  year  and  a  half  and 
for  eight  months  of  that  time  I  was  in  France.  My 
regiment  was  in  the  front  line  for  five  months,  and 
we  saw  a  lot  of  fighting.  I  don't  have  to  tell  you 
whether  we  had  a  good  regiment  or  a  poor  one.  You 
know  our  record." 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  the  situation  here?" 

"Everything.  The  reason  we  were  a  good  regiment 
was  because  we  were  a  close,  cohesive  organization, 
every  man  in  every  company  working  under  skillful 
direction  to  the  same  end — to  kill  Germans.  Our 
fellows  were  not  soldiers  in  the  professional  sense. 
They  were  volunteers  and  national  guard  men  except 
for  a  few  of  the  officers.  But  they  made  good  because 
the  men  who  handled  them  knew  how  to  organize 
them." 

"Come  to  the  point,"  ordered  Dad. 

"I  am  coming  to  it.  The  point  is  that  I  learned  that 
the  way  to  get  big  things  done  is  to  do  them  as  a  mass 
play,  not  piddle  around  individually.  Other  men  of 
my  sort  learned  the  same  thing." 

"The  war  is  over."    Dad  was  irritating. 

"I  know  the  war  is  over,  but  what  we  learned  in 
the  Army,  both  here  and  in  France,  isn't  forgotten, 
and  won't  be.  Dad,  don't  you  realize  the  opportunity 


1 6  HUNKINS 

there  is  in  this  city,  and  everywhere  else  in  the  United 
States,  for  those  men  who  went  into  the  service,  and 
came  out  alive?" 

"Not  yet." 

"Well,  you  should.  It's  simple  enough.  Here  are 
more  than  four  million  men,  counting  the  Navy  men, 
nearly  all  of  voting  age,  who  have  been  taught  the  value 
of  organization;  and  it  will  not  be  long  before  the  bulk 
of  them  are  back  in  civil  life.  It  makes  no  difference 
whether  they  went  to  France,  or  remained  on  this  side. 
They  are  all  soldiers  and  sailors.  They  are  more  than 
that.  They  are  comrades.  They  are  the  greatest  po- 
tential political  machine  this  country  ever  knew,  because 
they  are  already  bound  together  by  the  ties  of  comrade- 
ship, and  they  can  be  held  together  by  intelligent  direc- 
tion. They  deserve  a  lot  from  this  country,  and  from 
the  communities  in  which  they  live.  They  have  that 
great  initial  advantage.  All  there  is  to  it  is  to  get  them 
together  by  pointing  out  to  them  what  they  can  do  if 
they  utilize  their  strength  in  the  mass,  and  the  rest  is 
easy." 

"Huh,"  was  Dad's  comment  on  this  oration. 

"Don't  think,  either,"  I  continued  at  top  speed, 
"that  they  do  not  know  what  they  can  do.  Don't 
think  they  haven't  talked  it  over,  discussed  it.  Don't 
think  that  they  do  not  know  that  in  their  continued 
union  there  is  power  to  be  obtained,  and  office — all 
the  perquisites  of  politics.  And  don't  think  that  they 
are  not  beginning  to  understand  what  sort  of  political 
government  has  been  handed  to  their  folks  in  the 
past." 


DAD  POOH-POOHS  17 

"Granting  all  that,"  said  Dad,  "where  do  you  come 
in  on  it?" 

"Right  here.  In  this  city.  As  soon  as  our  boys 
get  home  we  shall  have  about  ten  thousand  to  work  on. 
Every  one  of  them  will  be  asked  to  join." 

"Join  what?" 

"A  political  organization  to  help  clean  up  this  town, 
and  incidentally,  to  help  the  soldiers  and  sailors  them- 
selves." 

"Son,"  said  Dad,  "sit  down  and  be  calm.  You  are 
talking  at  random.  What  do  you  know  about  poli- 
tics? Nothing.  How  can  you  hope  to  organize  a  lot 
of  soldiers  and  such  sailors  as  there  are  when  the  men 
who  make  a  business  of  politics  will  be  after  them,  are 
after  them  now?  Didn't  you  get  dirt  and  trouble 
enough  in  the  trenches  without  coming  back  here  and 
voluntarily  jumping  into  the  filth  of  local  politics? 
You  do  not  have  to  do  it.  There  is  nothing  in  politics. 
Not  a  thing.  Forget  it." 

"Dad,"  I  replied,  with  all  the  earnestness  I  could 
summon,  "there  is  something  in  it.  There  is  a  great 
chance  for  service  to  the  people  of  this  city.  I'm  going 
in." 

"Not  with  my  money." 

He  bore  down  on  that  again  in  a  most  exasperating 
manner.  Of  course,  I  know  that  politics  takes  money, 
and  I  also  know  that  I  have  only  a  few  thousands  of 
my  own,  and  that  away  back  in  my  head  is  the  hope 
that  Dad  will  help  financially  if  my  idea  works  out; 
but  it  made  me  see  red  when  Dad  probed  into  me  and 
dragged  out  that  phase  of  it  so  brutally.  He  has  no 
vision.  All  business — money  grubbing.  I  exploded. 


1 8  HUNKINS 

"Who  asked  you  for  money?"  I  shouted.  "Besides, 
it  isn't  a  question  of  money.  It's  a  question  of  the 
highest  community  interest,  of  moral  regeneration,  of 
better  civic  government,  of  the  preservation  and  appli- 
cation of  the  ideals  for  which  we  fought,  of  the  uplift- 
ing of  our  home  conditions,  of — of "  I  floun- 
dered a  bit. 

"Dough,"  Dad  concluded  for  me. 

I  picked  up  my  hat.  Dad  sat  looking  at  me  with 
one  of  his  quizzical  smiles.  "Anyhow,"  I  thought, 
"I've  put  on  a  good  show  for  him,"  and  the  smile  en- 
couraged me  a  little.  There  was  a  ray  of  hope. 

"Think  it  over,  won't  you?"  I  asked,  stopping  at  the 
door. 

"Don't  have  to.  It's  a  fool  proposition.  After  you 
have  jammed  yourself  up  against  Bill  Hunkins,  and 
Pete  Crowley,  and  Tony  Milano,  and  Tom  Pender- 
grast  and  a  few  more  of  the  sweet-scented  gang  who 
run  this  city  you  will  find  that  whipping  the  Germans 
wasn't  a  marker  to  regenerating  the  politics  here  and 
applying  to  our  local  government  the  ideals  which  were 
inculcated  in  you  in  France.  But,  when  you  are  at  this 
high  endeavor,  don't  fail  to  remember  that  this  insti- 
tution does  not  finance  any  ideals  whatsoever.  We 
deal  in  actualities  in  this  establishment." 

I  heard  Dad  laughing  as  I  went  down  the  hall. 
Then  I  heard  his  buzzer,  and  before  the  elevator  came 
up  a  boy  ran  to  me  and  said:  "Mr.  Talbot  would  like 
you  to  come  back  to  his  office  a  moment." 

"He's  relented,"  I  thought.  "Good  old  Dad! 
Pretty  cold  outside,  but  he  has  a  warm  heart  in  him." 

He  was  standing  by  a  window  looking  out  over  the 


DAD  POOH-POOHS  19 

city,  and  turned  as  I  entered.  "George,"  he  said, 
"I'm  not  going  to  try  to  stop  you  if  you  are  determined 
to  get  yourself  into  this  mess,  and  I  am  not  going  to 
help  you,  either.  However,  as  a  business  man,  there 
is  one  word  of  advice  I  would  like  to  give  you  before 
you  begin." 

"Thank  you,  Dad." 

"You  say  you  have  in  mind  an  organization  of  the 
soldiers  and  sailors  for  two  purposes.  The  first  is  to 
help  clean  up  our  politics.  Am  I  right?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"The  second,  as  I  gather  it,  is  to  help  the  soldiers 
themselves.  Do  I  quote  you  correctly?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  son,  my  advice  is  this :  Cut  the  idealistic  part 
of  your  programme  to  the  minimum,  and  play  up  the 
helping  the  soldiers  themselves  end  of  it.  Then  you 
may  get  somewhere.  Good  morning." 


CHAPTER  II 

MY  FRIENDS  SCOFF 

I  WAS  angry  after  I  got  into  the  hall  after  Dad's 
second  dismissal  of  me,  angry  at  Dad,  angry  at 
myself  for  having  exposed  my  plan  to  him  be- 
fore I  had  it  worked  out;  but  especially  angry 
at  Dad.  He  has  no  sympathy.  He  is  too  practical.  I 
stood  uncertain  where  to  go  or  what  to  do  when  the 
familiar  lettering  on  his  office  door  pulled  me  back  ap- 
proximately to  normal:  "The  Talbot  Pump  and  En- 
gine Company.  John  J.  Talbot,  President." 

"Pshaw  I"  I  thought.  "Dad  is  Dad.  An  idealistic 
suggestion  doesn't  appeal  to  him,  naturally.  How 
could  it?  He  owns  one  of  the  biggest  pump  and  en- 
gine works  in  this  country,  and  there's  nothing  ideal- 
istic about  an  engine,  or  a  pump.  Those  are  the  most 
utilitarian  appliances  on  this  earth." 

Thus  appeased  I  went  down  the  elevator  and  out 
of  doors.  Dad's  offices  are  in  the  Talbot  Building 
on  Main  Street.  The  works  are  out  on  the  edge  of  the 
city.  He  has  two  thousand  men  on  his  pay-roll,  and 
manufactures  every  sort  of  a  pump  needed  for  mining, 
engineering  projects,  irrigation  and  other  similar  pur- 
poses; and  various  kinds  of  engines,  tmt,  principally 
hoisting  engines.  He  turned  the  shops  over  for  war 
work,  made  -an  enormous  number  of  big  shells,  and  is 

20 


MY  FRIENDS  SCOFF  21 

busy  getting  the  works  back  to  a  peace  production 
basis.  That  excused  his  impatient  attitude  towards 
me,  too,  and  I  was  quite  cheerful  after  I  had  walked 
a  block.  I  am  proud  of  Dad,  really.  He  has  done  a 
lot  of  things  in  his  practical,  non-idealistic  way. 

Take  the  Talbot  Pump  and  Engine  Company,  for 
example.  Dad  began  as  a  machinist,  and  now  he  is 
one  of  the  richest  men  in  the  city,  and  one  of  the  largest 
employers  of  labor.  He  installs  pumps  and  engines  all 
over  the  world.  Almost  any  mine  you  may  mention 
has  his  machinery  in  it.  The  only  amusement  he  gets 
out  of  life  is  in  building  greater  and  better  pumps  than 
any  other  pump-maker.  He'll  build  a  pump  some  day 
big  enough  to  empty  Lake  Huron.  But  no  imagina- 
tion I  Positively  not !  So  practical  he  makes  your  head 
ache.  His  assertion  that  it  would  be  wise  to  put  my 
political  enterprise  on  the  basis  of  self-interest  proved 
that. 

I  met  Fred  Daskin  and  Jimmie  Chambers  at  the 
corner  of  Third  Street.  Fred  was  captain  of  B  com- 
pany in  my  regiment,  and  Jimmie  is  a  flyer.  He  has 
two  or  three  decorations — an  Ace. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  Fred  asked  me. 

"Nowhere." 

"Well,  come  along  to  lunch  with  Jimmie  and  me. 
We're  going  to  Short's  to  get  a  steak  just  to  impress 
on  ourselves  our  joy  over  our  freedom  from  Army 
chow — a  real  Sam  Lazarus  steak,  you  know,  with  mar- 
row bones  and  corn  fritters  and  pickled  walnuts  and 
all  the  other  fancy  upholstery.  A  bit  heavy  for  the 
middle  of  the  day,  but  we  hanker  for  it,  after  eighteen 
months  of  Army  beef.  Are  you  game?" 


22  HUNKINS 

"Sure,"  I  said,  and  I  joined  them.  Fred  and  Peter, 
who  has  been  waiter  at  Short's  for  twenty  years,  had 
a  long  consultation  over  the  steak  and  inspected  all 
the  cuts  in  the  icebox  before  deciding  on  which  one 
to  broil.  Then  Peter  personally  superintended  the 
broiling  of  it  at  the  great  range  at  the  end  of  the  room. 
Peter  split  the  other  steak,  in  which  the  Sam  Lazarus 
is  broiled,  placed  one  thin  piece  on  top  and  one  on  the 
bottom,  stood  around  until  those  outer  steaks  were 
burned  off  and  their  juices  had  penetrated  our  inner 
delectable,  fried  the  fritters  and  the  rest  of  the  things 
that  Mr.  Lazarus,  in  his  great  steak  wisdom,  decreed 
should  come  with  it  and  finally  served  it  tender,  luscious 
— real  steak. 

The  talk  was  mostly  about  Army  experiences  while 
we  were  eating.  I  proposed,  after  we  had  eliminated 
the  steak,  that  we  should  close  the  proceedings  with 
apple  pie. 

"'Ray!"  exclaimed  Jimmie.  "Then  we'll  never 
have  to  eat  again.  Bring  on  the  pie." 

Short's  pie-maker  is  an  artist.  He  constructs  reg- 
ular apple  pies,  with  the  top  crust  a  golden  brown,  the 
bottom  flaky  and  not  raw  dough,  and  plenty  of  apples, 
butter,  sugar,  nutmeg,  cinnamon  in  them;  and  the  juice 
runs  out  around  the  edges  and  is  all  brown  and  shiny 
and  sweet.  Those  pies  are  poems,  lyrics,  not  the  vers- 
libre  things  that  come  from  the  ordinary  pie-foundry, 
anemic,  pale  gray,  and  clammy.  Peter  recommended 
seconds  on  the  pie,  but  we  couldn't.  We  compromised 
on  coffee.  Peter  likes  to  see  his  friends  eat. 

"Now,"  said  Jimmie,  "we  should  have  some  intel- 
lectual diversion.  Any  suggestions?" 


MY  FRIENDS  SCOFF  23 

I  had  been  thinking  about  Fred  and  Jimmie  during 
the  meal.  They  both  have  leisure,  and  money.  They 
might  fall  in  with  my  plan,  and  I'd  never  have  a  more 
propitious  opportunity  for  sounding  them. 

"Let's  sit  here  for  a  while,"  I  urged.  "I  want  to 
talk  to  you  about  something." 

"But,  my  dear  George,  Jimmie  specified  intellectual 
diversion,"  observed  Fred. 

"I  may  not  divert  your  intellects,  but  I  hope  to  jar 
them,  provided  there  is  anything  to  jar,"  I  retorted. 

These  amenities  concluded  we  lighted  fresh  cigar- 
ettes, and  I  asked:  "Do  you  chaps  know  anything 
about  politics?" 

"Rotten  game,"  said  Jimmie. 

"All  of  that,"  endorsed  Fred. 

"Certainly,  and  that's  just  what  I  have  in  mind. 
Politics  is  rotten,  but  it  needn't  be." 

"Needn't  be?"  asked  Jimmie,  astonished.  "How 
are  you  going  to  stop  it?  Why,  I  know  Bill  Hunkins 
and  Tom  Pendergrast,  and  they  run  the  politics  of  this 
town.  Don't  try  to  tell  me  that  anything  those  babies 
have  to  do  with  isn't  putrid,  or  needn't  be.  It's  just 
got  to  be ;  that's  all." 

"Correct,"  said  Fred. 

"But,"  I  protested,  "simply  because  Bill  Hunkins 
and  Tom  Pendergrast  make  politics  rotten  doesn't 
prove  that  politics  necessarily  must  be  that  way.  If 
Tom  Smith  and  Sam  Jones  were  running  the  politics 
of  this  town,  and  Tom  Smith  and  Sam  Jones  were  hon- 
est, decent  men,  don't  you  think  that  their  politics 
would  be  honest  and  decent,  too?" 

"Not  on  your  life,"  answered  Jimmie.    "It  isn't  the 


24  HUNKINS 

men  that  make  politics  what  it  is ;  it's  politics  that  makes 
the  men  what  they  are.  Works  the  other  way  around. 
Before  Bill  Hunkins  and  Tom  Pendergrast  got  con- 
trol here  Andrew  Bruce  and  Charley  Thompson  ran 
things,  and  they  were  just  the  same.  You  can  pick 
out  any  Tom  Smith  and  Sam  Jones  you  want  to,  and 
put  them  into  politics  and  in  a  few  years,  no  matter 
how  honest  and  decent  they  were  when  they  started, 
they  will  be  pulling  things  that  Tom  Pendergrast  never 
thought  about.  It's  a  rotten  game,  I  tell  you." 

"But  it  needn't  be,"  I  asserted  again.     "If  we " 

"Oh,  Lord,"  interrupted  Fred.  "We're  not  inter- 
ested in  politics.  Let's  go  out  and  have  a  round  of 
golf." 

"That's  just  it,"  I  said.  "You  are  not  interested. 
Jimmie  is  not  interested.  Nobody  is  interested  but 
Hunkins  and  Pendergrast  and  the  rest  of  that  gang, 
and  they  go  on  getting  away  with  all  this  stuff  year 
after  year.  The  preachers  preach  about  it,  and  the 
editors  write  about  it,  and  the  long  hairs  hold  meetings 
to  protest  against  it;  but  folks  like  us,  who  ought  to 
be  interested  are  not  interested,  and  year  after  year 
they  set  up  a  Board  of  Aldermen  on  us  that  steals  us 
blind,  and  elect  a  mayor  who  does  exactly  what  Hun- 
kins tells  him  to,  or  Pendergrast,  depending  on  whose 
turn  it  is  to  have  the  mayor;  and  we  sit  around  and 
say  it's  all  rotten,  and  let  it  go  with  that  feeble  denun- 


ciation." 


Fred  and  Jimmie  were  astonished  at  this  outburst. 
It  was  the  first  time  they  had  heard  me  talk  that  way, 
except  for  some  casual  grousing  in  the  trenches  when 
supplies  were  not  coming  up  very  well,  or  some  other 


MY  FRIENDS  SCOFF  25 

military  mishap  had  occurred.  It  was  about  the  first 
time  I  ever  heard  myself  talk  that  way. 

"What's  biting  you,  George?"  Jimmie  asked. 

"I'll  tell  you  what's  biting  me,  it  won't  take  me  two 
minutes.  I  don't  know  what  you  fellows  got  out  of; 
this  war,  and  your  service  in  it,  but  what  I  got  out  of 
it  is  this:  I  saw  four  million  men  taken  from  civil 
life  and  made  over  into  the  best  soldiers  there  ever 
were  in  this  world,  and  all  in  a  year  and  a  half.  I 
commanded  some  of  those  soldiers,  and  so  did  you, 
Fred.  I  know  the  stuff  that  is  in  them,  and  I  know 
that  the  lessons  they  learned  in  the  way  of  organiza- 
tion and  discipline  need  not  be  wasted  after  they  get 
back  at  their  pre-war  jobs  provided  they  have  the  same 
sort  of  suggestive  direction  they  had  when  they  were 
being  made  into  soldiers.  In  round  numbers  there  are 
ten  thousand  of  those  soldiers  right  here  in  this  city  or 
will  be  when  they  all  get  home,  and  they  are  nearly  all 
voters.  Put  on  top  of  that  the  ten  thousand  women  vot- 
ers they  can  influence,  or  who  come  within  their  influ- 
ence and  right  there  you  have  a  political  body  that  can 
chase  Bill  Hunkins  and  Tom  Pendergrast  so  far  out  in 
the  high  grass  they  never  will  get  back." 

"What's  the  idea?"  asked  Fred.  "Where  do  we 
come  in?  Who's  going  to  organize  the  soldiers?" 

"I  am,"  I  replied,  with  such  dramatic  effect  as  I 
could  command. 

Fred  looked  across  at  Jimmie  and  tapped  his  fore- 
head. Jimmie  nodded  understandingly,  and  began 
whistling  the  chorus  of  Madelon.  Neither  said  any- 
thing. 

I  felt  that  I  had  made  no  impression,  and  I  raised 


26  HUNKINS 

my  voice.  Ever  notice  how  you  shout  when  you  want 
to  make  another  person  understand — trying  to  get  a 
Frenchman  to  comprehend  your  French,  for  example? 

"Say  something,"  I  demanded.  "Don't  sit  there  like 
a  couple  of  duds." 

Jimmie  concluded  the  chorus  of  Madelon  with  an 
elaborate  flourish.  Fred  took  a  cigarette  from  his  case, 
lighted  it,  and  tried  to  make  a  smoke  ring.  I  could 
feel  my  temperature  rising. 

Finally,  Jimmie  asked,  solicitously:  "Haven't  caught 
the  'flu'  or  anything  like  that,  have  you?" 

"No,"  I  replied,  and  I  was  vicious  about  it. 

"Poor  boy,"  said  Fred.  "He  has  delusions  of  gran- 
deur." 

Peter,  the  waiter,  was  near  by.  I  beckoned  to  him. 
"Peter,"  I  said,  "I  am  about  to  give  vent  to  some 
loud  language.  I  feel  it  coming  over  me.  Don't  be 
fussy  and  send  for  the  police  or  anything.  I  shan't 
assault  them — here." 

"All  right,  Mr.  George,  so  long  as  you  don't  break 
any  of  the  dishes."  And  Peter  moved  discreetly  away. 

"Now,  look  here  and  listen  to  me,  you,  Fred  Das- 
kin,  and  you,  Jimmie  Chambers,  while  I  tell  you  a  few 
things  about  yourselves :  I've  known  you  all  your  lives. 
We  grew  up  together,  lived  on  the  same  street,  went 
to  the  same  college,  and  have  been  in  all  sorts  of  places 
and  scrapes  together.  We  went  into  the  Army  at  the 
beginning  of  the  war,  and  we  have  all  three  of  us  been 
in  France,  and  in  the  thick  of  it.  That's  where  we 
stand  now. 

"You,  Fred  Daskin,  except  for  the  work  you  did  in 
the  Army,  have  never  done  anything  in  your  life  ex- 


MY  FRIENDS  SCOFF  27 

cept  have  a  good  time.  You  don't  have  to,  for  your 
father  is  rich,  and  softer-hearted  than  mine.  You, 
Jimmie  Chambers,  are  playing  at  being  a  lawyer,  and 
you  are  not  at  your  office  twice  a  month,  but  spend  all 
your  time  at  golf  and  polo,  and  fooling  around  with 
a  lot  of  canary-witted  girls.  And  I'm  not  much  bet- 
ter." 

"Oh,  la  la  la,"  said  Fred.    "Don't  be  so  modest." 

"I'm  not  much  better.  It  happens  that  my  father 
is  harder-bitten  than  either  of  yours,  and  he  grabbed 
me  when  I  got  through  college  and  stuck  me  in  the 
business.  He  tried  to  make  me  work.  I  kept  office 
hours,  but  didn't  work  much.  I  was  busy  doing  what 
you  boys  were  doing  and  what  you  seem  to  be  prepar- 
ing to  do  again — nothing  that  amounts  to  a  tinker's 
dam." 

"We  went  into  the  Army,  didn't  we?"  asked  Fred. 

"We  did.  We  went  into  the  Army,  and  that  is  what 
I  am  coming  to.  We  each  of  us  have  three  service 
stripes.  Those  mean  eighteen  months  in  the  service. 
What  I  want  to  know  is  this :  Are  those  three  service 
stripes,  and  the  little  rank  we  got,  the  only  things  the 
Army  did  for  us?" 

"Brushed  up  my  French,"  put  in  Jimmie. 

"Mine,  too,"  said  Fred. 

"Is  that  all?  Well,  the  Army  did  more  for  me  than 
that — a  heap  more." 

"Made  a  politician  of  you,  for  instance?"  Jimmie 
was  laughing  at  me. 

"It  gave  me  a  sort  of  a  slant  on  just  the  sort  of  a 
citizen  of  this  republic  I  was  before  the  war,  and 


28  HUNKINS 

showed  me  the  sort  of  citizen  I  may  be,  if  I've  got 
the  nerve,  after  the  war." 

"Your  tale  moves  me  strangely,  my  brave  young 
lad.  Proceed,  I  prithee."  Fred  was  laughing  at  me 
now. 

"Dammit!"  I  cried,  pounding  the  table  so  hard  that 
the  coffee  cups  rattled  and  Peter  pursed  his  lips  and 
held  up  a  warning  finger. 

"Dammit !  isn't  there  anything  you  fellows  will  take 
seriously?  Do  you  mean  to  sit  there  and  let  me  be- 
lieve that  this  war  has  taught  you  nothing — nothing 
at  all;  that  you  are  the  same  sort  of  useless  excres- 
cences on  society  you  were  before  you  joined?  Can't 
you  get  a  bigger,  broader,  saner  view  of  what  your 
duties  are  now  that  you  have  been  in  the  greatest  game 
that  ever  was?  Didn't  you  learn  anything?" 

"Sure,"  said  Fred,  "the  war  taught  me  a  lot  of 
things;  all  about  cooties,  and  trench  feet,  and  how 
to  be  happy  although  wet  through  for  six  weeks 
straight,  and  what  to  do  when  gassed,  and  how  to 
exist  for  ten  days  straight  on  bully  beef,  and  the  cor- 
rect way  to  exterminate  Huns,  and  a  great  quantity 
of  other  information,  useful  at' the  time,  but  not  of 
much  value  at  the  club,  nor  at  home." 

"That's  what  I  thought,"  I  said.  "Exactly  what  I 
was  hoping  against.  You  might  as  well  have  been 
at  the  top  of  Pike's  Peak  as  in  the  Argonne  for  all  the 
vision  it  gave  you.  Why,  man,  don't  you  realize  the 
opportunities  you  have  for  service  now,  right  here  in 
this  city?" 

"In  what  way?" 

"In  the  way  of  getting  into  politics,  of  doing  some- 


MY  FRIENDS  SCOFF  29 

thing  to  clean  up  this  City  Hall  gang,  making  this  city 
a  better  place  to  live  in,  of  driving  Bill  Hunkins  and 
Tom  Pendergrast  and  the  rest  of  them  out  of  busi- 
ness, and  putting  decent  men  in  their  places." 

"Excuse  me,"  said  Fred.     "I'm  not  taking  any." 

"Well,  I  am,"  I  asserted  vehemently.  "I'm  going 
to  make  a  try  at  it,  and  want  you  chaps  to  string  along. 
It  will  give  you  a  real  interest  and  incentive  in  life. 
It  will  continue  the  man-making  of  you  that  the  Army 
began  but  that  will  be  all  wasted  in  a  year's  time  if 
you  go  on  as  you  have  started  now  you  have  your  uni- 
forms off." 

"George,"  said  Jimmie,  who  was  serious  now,  "I 
don't  quite  get  you.  Do  you  mean  you  are  going  into 
politics  and  run  for  office  and  all  that  sort  of  stuff? 
Do  you  mean  you  are  going  out  canvassing  in  the 
wards,  and  making  speeches,  and  putting  up  money  to 
buy  votes,  and  mixing  in  all  the  muck  and  filth  of  this 
rotten  game  here?  I'd  have  thought  you  had  enough 
dirt  in  France !" 

"That's  what  Dad  said." 

"Oh  ho,"  put  in  Fred,  "so  you  have  talked  it  over 
with  Old  Ironsides  Talbot,  have  you?  And  what  does 
he  say?" 

"He  says  it's  a  fool  proposition." 

"Always  was  a  man  of  great  discernment.  Any- 
thing else?" 

Fred  Daskin  is  a  most  offensive  person  when  he 
wants  to  be.  I  felt  like  hitting  him. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  soothed  Jimmie.  "No  need  of 
getting  all  fussed  up  about  this.  So  you  are  going  to 
organize  the  soldiers,  George?  With  what?" 


30  HUNKINS 

"What  do  you  mean  with  what?" 

I  was  fast  losing  coherency.  It  goaded  me  to  find 
that  my  two  best  friends  were  so  unresponsive  about 
this  important  matter. 

"I  mean  how  are  you  going  to  organize  them?  What 
inducements  will  you  make?  What  will  you  tell  them 
they  can  get  out  of  it?" 

"There  you  go,"  I  shouted,  "putting  it  on  that  low 
level  of  selfish  personal  interest.  I  shan't  tell  them 
they  can  get  anything  out  of  it  except  a  consciousness 
of  service  of  the  highest  kind  to  their  city  and  to  their 
country — the  same  sort  of  service  they  gave  when  they 
went  and  fought  in  this  war.  That's  what  I  shall  tell 
them,  and  that's  how  I  shall  get  them." 

Jimmie  looked  at  Fred,  and  both  laughed. 

"Poor  old  chap,"  said  Fred.  "Must  be  shell  shock. 
Mind  broken  under  the  strain.  Ought  to  go  to  Cali- 
fornia or  Florida  and  do  nothing  but  count  seagulls 
for  six  months.  Pitiful  case,  really." 

I  rose  from  my  chair  and  said :  "I  thought  the  war 
might  have  stirred  something  in  you  besides  an  appe- 
tite for  beefsteak  and  pie,  pulled  you  away  from  golf 
and  polo  and  bridge  and  the  shimmy  dance,  but  I  must 
be  wrong.  Is  it  possible  that  you  are  not  awake  to 
the  tremendous  problems  pressing  on  our  people — on 
the  whole  world — for  solution — reconstruction,  read- 
justment, self  determination,  and  the  spread  of  democ- 
racy and — and — everything?" 

I  was  impressed  by  an  editorial  article  I  read  that 
had  these  ideas  in  it  and  I  thought  I  could  remember 
the  language,  but  it  got  away  from  me.  So  I  had  to 


MY  FRIENDS  SCOFF  31 

quit  right  in  the  middle  of  my  peroration,  but  I  be- 
lieve it  just  the  same. 

Fred  and  Jimmie  grinned  amiably.  I  saw  I  was  get- 
ting nowhere.  So  I  changed  my  tactics. 

"Boys,"  I  appealed,  "think  it  over.  It  really  is  a 
big  opportunity  to  do  something.  These  soldiers  are 
ripe  for  it.  We  can  form  them  into  an  organization 
that  will  be  a  great  political  power,  and  if  we  succeed 
here  we  can  spread  out  over  the  state,  maybe  over 
the  whole  Nation.  It's  a  great  game,  I  tell  you,  a  big 
chance.  Come  on  with  me." 

"George,"  asked  Fred,  "are  you  serious  about  this? 
Do  you  mean  it?  Or  are  you  only  spouting?" 

"I  never  was  more  in  earnest  in  my  life." 

"That  doesn't  get  us  anywhere.  You  never  were 
very  earnest  about  anything.  Do  you  mean  this?" 

"I  do." 

"Are  you  going  into  it?" 

"I  am." 

Fred  beckoned  to  Peter  and  asked  for  his  hat. 

"Will  you  go  in  with  me?"  I  asked. 

"No,"  Jimmie  replied,  as  he  lighted  another  ciga- 
rette, "but  we'll  stick  around  and  be  ready  to  give  you 
first  aid  when  you  come  out." 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  DIRECTORS  DEPRECATE 

WE  parted  in  front  of  Short's.       "Give  me 
a  job  when  you  get  to  be  mayor,"  Fred 
jeered  at  me  as  he  and  Jimmie  moved 
away.     I  didn't  reply.    No  rejoinder  that 
I  could  think  of  fitted  the  situation.     I  was  furious  with 
my  friends  because  they  received  my  ideas  so  lightly. 
I  would  show  them !     I  made  a  new  and  firmer  vow  to 
that  self-satisfying  effect  every  ten  feet  I  walked. 

This  congenial  occupation  of  repairing  my  broken 
vanity  was  interrupted  by  the  approach  of  Mr.  Jacob 
T.  Hull,  President  of  the  Third  National  Bank,  who 
stopped  me,  saying:  "Why,  George,  how  do  you  do? 
I'm  glad  to  see  you.  I  heard  about  your  being  home. 
Congratulations  on  your  promotion.  Coming  to  the 
directors'  meeting  to-day?  Better  do  it.  All  the  board 
will  be  pleased." 

I  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Hull,  and  was  glad  to  see 
him  in  the  same  conventional  language.  I  am  a  direc- 
tor in  the  Third  National.  That  is  one  of  the  banks 
Dad  uses.  He  bought  me  enough  stock  in  it  to  qualify, 
ten  or  twenty  shares,  and  had  me  put  on  the  board. 
Dad  said,  at  the  time,  that  I  ought  to  know  some- 
thing about  banking  if  I  am  to  follow  him  as  a  pump 

32 


THE  DIRECTORS  DEPRECATE    33 

maker.  I  had  no  idea  of  going  to  that  directors'  meet- 
ing, but  I  had  nothing  else  to  do,  and  it  was  an  eas\[ 
way  to  pick  up  five  dollars.  So  I  said:  "Certainly,  Mr. 
Hull,  I  am  on  my  way  to  the  bank  now."  We  walked 
along  together,  Mr.  Hull  asking  me  many  questions 
about  the  war,  whether  the  people  of  France  really 
are  starving,  whether  I  didn't  think  the  Belgians  a 
most  heroic  peopkj  is  Germany  really  whipped  or  only 
shamming,  what  is  my  opinion  of  the  League  of  Na- 
tions, is  Wilson  getting  anywhere,  and  so  on. 

I  was  all  puffed  up  when  I  became  a  director  of 
the  Third  National.  It  seemed  very  important  to  be 
partly  responsible  for  the  safe  conduct  of  a  big  bank. 
While  there  are  several  banks  greater  in  deposits  and 
older  than  ours,  the  Third  National  is  a  lively,  hustling, 
enterprising  institution,  has  about  eight  millions  of 
deposits  and  does  a  good,  profitable  business.  Mr. 
Hull  grew  up  in  the  bank.  Dad  says  he  knows  the 
real  rating  of  every  man  in  the  city  who  is  likely  to 
ask  for  credit.  I  took  my  duties  as  director  seriously. 

Presently,  I  made  the  disconcerting  discovery  that 
all  I  was  expected  to  do  was  to  sit  with  the  other  direc- 
tors and  solemnly  agree  with  what  the  President  laid 
before  us.  I  soon  found  that  no  further  participation 
was  expected  from  me  than  a  dignified  "I  approve" 
now  and  then,  varied  at  long  intervals  with  an  equally 
dignified  "I  don't  think  so,"  just  to  show  I  wasn't  en- 
tirely automatic.  The  Loan  Committee  took  care  of 
all  the  large  loans,  and  the  president  and  cashier  did 
the  rest. 

At  each  meeting  I  looked  at  the  slips  showing  the 
overdrafts  when  they  passed  from  hand  to  hand,  and 


34  HUNKINS 

the  lists  of  loans  forthcoming,  falling  due  and  re« 
newed,  the  statement  of  the  bank's  condition  on  that 
day,  and  at  other  tabulations,  and  was  duly  gratified 
for  there  never  was  anything  to  be  alarmed  over.  I 
applauded  the  news  of  the  opening  of  new  and  im- 
portant accounts,  and  otherwise  comported  myself  as 
the  other  directors  did,  who  were  longer  in  the  board 
than  I,  the  baby  member,  was;  but  my  chief  function 
was  to  vote  "Aye"  to  every  proposition  the  president 
made. 

It  was  interesting,  for  I  soon  learned  that  a  meet- 
ing of  the  board  of  directors  of  a  bank  is  the  liveliest 
sort  of  a  gossip  shop.  All  other  important  business 
men  not  on  the  board,  and  their  affairs,  are  discussed 
with  entire  freedom.  My  service  taught  me  the  busi- 
ness unwisdom  of  judging  by  appearances.  I  found 
that  many  a  man  I  thought  was  securely  well-to-do  was 
skating  on  thin  financial  ice,  and  that  many  another 
man  I  fancied  was  of  no  business  account  stood  well 
with  Mr.  Hull.  I  learned  all  about  those  who  were 
asking  to  extend  their  notes,  and  joined  the  general 
hammering  of  those  poor  devils  who  were  constantly 
seeking  to  kite  checks,  to  coax  us  to  permit  over-drafts, 
and  get  money  on  cat-and-dog  securities. 

I  found  out  who  it  was  who  borrowed  the  money 
to  buy  a  seven  thousand  dollar  automobile  so  he  could 
outsplash  his  neighbors,  and  discovered  the  identities 
of  those  of  our  citizens  who  were  in  hot  water  always 
because  of  the  extravagances  of  their  wives.  I  knew 
which  of  the  city  officials  had  to  discount  their  pay 
vouchers  to  keep  going,  who  some  of  the  promoters 
were,  and  had  an  occasional  peep  at  the  financial 


THE  DIRECTORS  DEPRECATE         35 

arrangements  of  a  number  of  double  lives.  Not  much 
escapes  the  board  of  directors  of  a  bank.  It  is  a 
weekly  compendium  of  business  and  social  life. 

The  directors  were  substantial  active  business  men, 
mostly,  but  included  a  lawyer  or  two,  and  a  couple 
of  retired  capitalists — leading  citizens,  or  trying  to  be. 
Some  of  them  put  on  high  hats  and  went  to  church  on 
Sunday,  and  others  put  on  caps  and  went  golfing  or 
automobiling.  They  belonged  to  the  various  civic  and 
commercial  organizations,  had  been  active  in  Liberty 
Loan,  Red  Cross  and  other  war  drives,  and  were 
paying  their  increased  taxes  patriotically,  albeit  with 
a  few  grumbles  now  and  then.  They  gave  little  atten- 
tion to  politics,  so  far  as  I  knew,  except  in  the  last 
week  or  ten  days  of  a  campaign,  when  they  talked  and 
spluttered  a  good  deal  and  generally  went  to  the  coun- 
try on  election  day  without  voting.  They  were  average 
American  citizens,  for  the  most  part,  with  growing 
families,  and  all  doing  well;  not  the  biggest  business 
men  in  the  city,  except  Mr.  Johnson  and  Mr.  Perkins, 
who  were  great  merchants  and  directors  of  other  banks, 
also;  but  well  rated.  Most  of  them  were  bored  when 
the  opera  came  to  town  and  their  wives  dragged  them 
to  it,  preferring  girl-and-music  shows.  They  nearly 
all  condemned  cigarettes  and  wrist  watches. 

They  were  merciless  to  the  financial  fakers  and 
bilkers  and  to  their  rivals  in  trade,  but  let  a  man  who 
was  enterprising  and  financially  straight,  come  along 
with  a  chance  to  do  something  for  himself,  and  extend 
the  aggregate  business  of  the  city  and  they  would  vote 
to  help  him,  give  him  credit  to  his  limit,  and  be  easy 
in  the  matter  of  extensions.  The  chief,  actuating  im- 


36  HUNKINS 

pulse  and  endeavor  of  all  was  to  get  rich,  or  richer, 
and  all  operated  on  the  firmly  established  formula  that 
"business  is  business." 

Mr.  Perkins  always  comes  to  a  meeting  smoking 
a  stogie.  Got  used  to  them  when  he  was  young,  he 
says,  as  an  extenuation  for  the  rankness  of  the  smell 
he  purveys,  and  likes  the  taste  of  them.  This  invari- 
ably causes  Mr.  Johnson  to  remark  that  the  real  rea- 
son Mr.  Perkins  likes  stogies  is  because  he  can  get 
ten  of  his  sort  for  a  quarter,  and  that  remark  is  the 
curtain-raiser  for  the  scheduled  and  sole  formal  jo- 
cosity of  Mr.  Hull.  Some  years  ago  Mr.  Hull  took  a 
ride  across  the  continent  with  a  rich  man  of  our  city 
who  owns  a  private  car.  This  rich  man  insisted  that 
his  guests  must  smoke  a  pale,  blonde  domestic  cigar 
that  he  provided  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other  brands. 
He  smoked  them  and  what  was  good  enough  for  him 
was  good  enough  for  his  guests.  Hull  suffered  under 
these  cigars  until  he  reached  Portland,  Oregon.  As 
they  were  coming  to  that  city  Hull  saw  a  great  electric 
sign  announcing  that  this  particular  brand  of  cigars 
was  "now  five  cents." 

"Bill,"  asked  Mr.  Hull  of  the  host,  "when  did  they 
raise  the  price  of  these  cigars?" 

We  laugh  at  that  anecdote  conscientiously.  It  is 
the  preliminary  for  our  meeting.  Our  laugh  pleases 
Mr.  Hull  and  does  not  hurt  any  of  us  unless  it  starts 
Colonel  Henry  Clay  Chapman  off  on  a  line  of  his 
stories,  each  one  of  which  takes  half  an  hour  to  tell 
and  no  one  of  which  has  form,  substance  or  point.  Mr. 
Hull  has .  an  unfailing  method  for  stopping  Colonel 
Chapman.  He  politely  interrupts  to  tell  the  Colonel 


THE  DIRECTORS  DEPRECATE    37 

that  John  Jay  Smollett,  Chapman's  bitterest  enemy, 
has  applied  for  a  loan  of  five  thousand  dollars,  and 
Chapman  always  abandons  his  story  for  wild  clamor 
that  not  a  cent  shall  be  loaned  to  that  despicable  crea- 
ture, Smollett. 

Mr.  Hull  and  I  went  up  to  the  directors'  room  in 
the  bank.  Ten  or  twelve  of  the  directors  were  there, 
and  others  came  in  soon  after.  They  were  warm  in 
their  greetings.  The  Sunday  golfing  and  automobiling 
contingent  made  little  jokes  about  cooties,  and  sly  refer- 
ences to  French  girls  and  other  similar  subjects.  The 
others  pretended  not  to  hear  but  listened,  just  the  same. 
Mr.  Hull  called  us  to  order  and  put  the  pending  busi- 
ness over  with  celerity.  We  endorsed  the  activities 
of  the  Loan  Committee,  and  said  the  president  showed 
excellent  business  discretion  in  calling  the  loan  of  a 
man  who  had  a  big  loss  in  his  lumber  yard  because 
of  a  flood.  We  nodded  with  satisfaction  when  we 
heard  how  our  surplus  is  growing,  and  were  one  in 
the  demand  that  Arthur  R.  Beegin,  who  is  a  specu- 
lator, should  replace  his  Second  Electric  Fours,  which 
he  has  up  for  collateral,  with  First  Consolidated  Sixes, 
and  increase  the  amount  of  collateral  thirty  per  cent. 
"Speculating  is  a  most  precarious  business,"  observed 
the  conservative  Mr.  Perkins,  "and  we  must  take  no 
chances."  Later,  I  learned  that  Mr.  Perkins  formed 
a  little  pool  and  bought  those  Second  Electric  Fours 
at  a  low  price  when  Beegin  was  forced  to  unload  them. 

We  emphatically  approved  the  action  of  the  Loan 
Committee  in  refusing  a  line  of  credit  to  B.  T.  Twin- 
ing, who  has  a  substitute  for  gasolene  that  can  be  made 
for  six  cents  a  gallon  almost  ready  for  the  market.  I 


38  HUNKINS 

was  astonished  to  hear  that  Mr.  Perkins,  a  few  days 
later,  advanced  Twining  four  thousand  dollars,  taking 
as  security  fifty-one  per  cent,  of  the  stock  of  the 
company. 

Presently,  the  business  was  concluded,  and  Mr.  Hull 
distributed  the  five-dollar  fees.  Some  of  the  bigger 
banks  pay  ten  dollars,  and  the  biggest  one  twenty, 
but  five  is  our  figure.  A  conservative  sum — as  Mr. 
Perkins  remarked.  Before  the  war  we  got  gold  pieces, 
but  now  Mr.  Hull  distributes  paper  money,  I  observed. 
He  said  he  was  holding  his  gold.  That  "his"  sounded 
very  reassuring  and  proprietary,  for  I  knew  Mr.  Hull 
to  be  a  most  conservative  banker.  After  we  adjourned 
the  directors  asked  me  questions  about  my  experiences 
in  the  war,  and  while  I  was  answering  them  it  flashed 
over  me  that  this  is  a  good  opportunity  to  put  out  a 
feeler  about  my  political  idea.  These  men  are  all 
men  of  affairs,  and  all  of  them  older  than  I  am. 

So,  after  I  finished  a  tribute  to  the  American  buck 
private,  I  said:  "By  the  way,  gentlemen,  it  is  quite 
possible  that  these  returned  soldiers  may  make  them- 
selves felt  in  politics." 

"How  so?"  asked  Mr.  Johnson. 

"Why,  there  will  be  about  ten  thousand  of  them. 
Suppose  some  man  of  good  organizing  ability  and  high 
ideals  comes  along  and  forms  those  returned  soldiers 
into  a  political  body,  or  into  a  body,  to  put  it  another 
way,  that  may  not  be  political,  in  its  outer  aspects — 
may  be  social,  or  protective,  or  for  insurance  or  some- 
thing like  that,  but  that  can  be  used  for  politics,  just 
the  same.  Wouldn't  that  be  a  big  force  in  politics? 


THE  DIRECTORS  DEPRECATE    39 

For  example,  couldn't  this  city's  present  administration 
be  turned  out  and  a  clean,  decent  one  installed?" 

The  directors  were  interested  and  curious.  Mr. 
Hull  was  annoyed.  I  could  see  that  by  the  expres- 
sion on  his  face.  He  laughed,  though,  as  if  it  was 
funny. 

"Pshaw!"  he  said,  waving  his  hand  as  if  to  dismiss 
the  whole  matter,  "nobody  will  try  that." 

"Don't  be  so  sure  of  it." 

"Who  will?"  Mr.  Hull's  laugh  stopped  short. 

"Perhaps  I  will." 

"You?"  Half  a  dozen  of  the  directors  joined  in 
that  loud  and  astonished  query. 

"Yes.     I  think  it  might  be  done." 

"Now,  look  here,  George,"  said  Mr.  Perkins,  push- 
ing up  to  me.  "Just  because  you  were  in  the  Army 
don't  get  any  fool  notions  in  your  head.  We  are 
going  along  quite  comfortably  here,  and  don't  want 
any  disturbance  in  our  local  political  affairs." 

That  feazed  me.  One  of  our  great  merchants  and 
civic  props  actually  was  opposed  to  political  reform! 

"Why,  Mr.  Perkins,"  I  said,  "you  don't  mean  to 
say  that  this  city  administration  is  satisfactory  to  you; 
that  it  is  clean  and  decent  and  what  it  should  be?" 

"Perhaps  not  what  it  should  be,  in  the  strict  sense," 
he  replied,  "but  it  is  the  best  we  can  get  without  great 
turmoil  and  disturbance  of  business.  We  de  not  desire 
a  change  at  present,  do  we?"  He  appealed  to  the 
other  directors. 

"No,"  they  answered  with  depressing  unanimity. 
"Things  are  going  very  well  at  present." 


40  HUNKINS 

"Very  well!"  I  exclaimed,  "with  Bill  Hunkins  and 
Tom  Pendergrast " 

"George,"  interrupted  Mr.  Hull,  "pardon  me  if 
I  speak  plainly  to  you.  You  are  evidently  under  a 
misapprehension  as  to  Mr.  Pendergrast.  I  feel  it  my 
duty  to  set  you  right.  You  should  not  believe  these 
sensational,  yellow  newspaper  stories  about  Mr.  Pen- 
dergrast. He  is  a  public-spirited  citizen." 

"Tom  Pendergrast  is?"  I  was  amazed  at  Mr. 
Hull's  defense  of  the  boss. 

"Certainly,  and  a  warm  friend  of  this  bank.  You 
should  know,  if  you  do  not,  that  Mr.  Pendergrast 
keeps  seven  hundred  thousand  dollars  of  city  treasury 
money  on  deposit  in  this  bank,  and,  it  is  hoped,  will 
increase  that  sum  to  a  million  shortly.  We  pay  two? 
per  cent,  interest  on  that  money  on  monthly  balances. 
We  loan  that  money  at  five  or  six  per  cent,  on  com- 
mercial paper  to  our  customers,  making  a  very  hand- 
some profit  each  year." 

I  did  know  we  have  city  deposits,  but  I  didn't  know 
just  why  and  how  we  have  them  until  Mr.  Hull  ex- 
plained in  that  patronizing  manner  of  his.  I  thought 
we  have  these  deposits  because  the  Third  National  is  a 
good,  safe  bank. 

"It  isn't  Pendergrast's  money,"  I  protested. 

"No,  but  because  of  his  influence  with  the  present 
administration  he  directs  where  it  shall  be  deposited. 
We  need  him  in  our  business." 

He  stopped  and  smiled  at  me  as  if  he  had  given 
me  a  great  light.  He  had,  too,  but  not  in  the  way 
he  thought. 

"Furthermore,"  added  Mr.  Johnson,  "there  is  that 


THE  DIRECTORS  DEPRECATE         41 

matter  of  the  renewal  for  the  franchises  of  the  South 
Side  electric  lines,  and  the  new  power  and  lighting 
rates,  to  say  nothing  of  the  extensions  of  the  streets 
we  need  to  connect  up  that  tract  myself  and  some  of 
my  friends  are  handling  out  Edgewood  way.  Mr. 
Pendergrast  and  Mr.  Hunkins  have  the  say  in  all 
these  important  matters,  and  it  would  be  deplorable 
if  they  were  annoyed  in  any  way  just  at  present.  They 
are  reasonably  disposed." 

"All  nonsense,"  put  in  G.  H.  Carstairs,  who  owns 
a  quarry  and  sells  crushed  rock  to  the  city.  "Don't 
be  putting  any  wild  notions  into  the  heads  of  these 
soldiers.  Bill  Hunkins  is  a  man  who  can  be  depended 
upon.  He  always  keeps  his  word." 

"You  bet!"  exclaimed  Alonzo  A.  Collins,  a  real 
estate  man,  "and  so  does  Pendergrast.  He's  promised 
to  take  that  Imrey  tract  for  a  city  park  extension  as 
soon  as  the  new  Board  of  Aldermen  is  elected." 

Mr.  Hull  took  up  the  recital  again.  "Besides? 
while  it  may  fairly  be  held  that  the  average  of  intellec- 
tuality of  the  Aldermen  may  not  be  high  they  are 
always  under  control.  Also,  the  Appraisers  are  fair 
men  and  will  listen  to  reason  in  the  matter  of  assess- 
ments and  tax  levies,  and  the  other  city  departments 
are  in  excellent  hands.  Most  of  what  you  hear  about 
these  men  is  the  invention  of  their  political  enemies. 
I  consider  them  safe  men,  and  useful." 

"Well,  I  don't,"  I  said,  "I  think  the  politics  of  this 
city  need  cleaning  up,  and  there  may  be  a  way  to  do  it." 

"Surely,  George,  you  are  not  serious?"  Mr.  Per- 
kins was  solicitous.  "This  must  be  some  joke  you  are 
playing  on  us.  You  have  no  intention  of  trying  to 


42  HUNKINS 

start  a  political  row  now  when  we  need  all  the  sup- 
port we  can  get  from  the  city  administration  for  our 
various  projects." 

"You  need  all  the  support  you  can  get  from  the 
city  administration?"  I  repeated,  nonplussed  at  this 
view  of  it.  "Good  Lord!  I  thought  it  was  you  men 
who  supported  the  city  administration  instead  of  the 
city  administration  supporting  you." 

"Well,"  soothed  Mr.  Perkins,  "you  do  not  under- 
stand. You  are  young  and  impressionable.  Go  and 
talk  this  over  with  your  father." 

"I  have  talked  it  over  with  my  father,"  I  blurted. 
Instantly,  I  knew  that  was  a  stupid  thing  to  say.  These 
men  would  ask  me  what  my  father  said.  If  I  told 
them  I  would  not  only  uphold  their  contentions,  but 
would  weaken  and,  in  a  way,  humiliate  myself.  They 
mustn't  know  that  Dad  had  pooh-poohed  at  me. 

Mr.  Hull  saw  the  opening  instantly.  "What  did 
your  father  say?"  he  asked  in  a  tone  that  made  me 
feel  like  a  child  being  questioned  as  to  his  sin  before 
he  is  spanked. 

"None  of  your  damned  business  what  he  said!" 
came  to  my  lips,  but  I  didn't  say  it.  I  ought  to  keep 
my  temper.  I  knew  that. 

"We  haven't  finished  discussing  it  yet,"  I  answered, 
trying  to  create  the  impression  that  the  matter  was  an 
open  question  between  us. 

Mr.  Hull  patted  me  on  the  shoulder  as  he  might 
pat  a  little  boy.  His  gentle  tapping  made  me  shiver 
with  indignation. 

"My  dear  boy,"  he  said,  in  his  suavest  manner, 
thereby  increasing  my  indignation,  "you  don't  have  to 


THE  DIRECTORS  DEPRECATE          43 

tell  us,  for  we  are  very  well  aware  what  he  said.  I'll 
bet  a  cookie  I  know.  He  set  it  dawn  as  a  boyish  whim, 
and  advised  you  to  get  back  to  business  and  leave 
politics  to  the  politicians.  John  Talbot  is  a  safe  and 
sane  citizen." 

That  smug  interpretation  backed  me  into  a  corner. 
I  couldn't  continue  the  conversation.  There  was  no 
sympathy  nor  encouragement  here.  I  took  my  hat  and 
started  out. 

Some  of  the  directors  chuckled.  I  was  quite  sure 
I  heard  the  thin  cackle  of  Perkins.  I  turned  at  the 
door,  blazing:  "Well,  anyway,"  I  said,  "I  am  going 
to  make  a  try  at  it,  notwithstanding  the  personal  in- 
conveniences to  you  gentlemen  if  I  get  anywhere 
with  it." 

"What  will  you  do  to  us,  George?"  asked  Mr.  Hull, 
as  if  he  didn't  give  a  hoot  what  I  tried  to  do.  "Not 
put  us  out  of  business,  I  hope."  Apparently,  he  thought 
they  had  spiked  me. 

"I'll  make  you  pay  more  than  two  per  cent,  interest 
on  city  money,  for  one  thing,"  I  answered  and  tried 
to  bang  the  door  to  emphasize  my  threat.  But  I  was 
balked  in  that  final  demonstration.  The  door  is  fitted 
with  one  of  those  patent  non-banging  appliances  and 
responded  to  my  violent  tug  by  closing  after  me  gently 
and  noiselessly.  Even  the  fittings  of  that  bank  are 
against  me! 


CHAPTER  IV 

STEVE  FOX  APPROVES 

CONSIDERABLY  miffed,  I  walked  up  to  the 
club  and  got  my  mail.  There  were  two  in- 
vitations to  large,  formal  dances,  a  bid  to 
dinner  at  the  Country  Club,  with  dancing 
afterwards;  a  notice  that  I  was  expected  to  contribute 
to  and  participate  in  the  after-the-war  reorganization 
of  The  Bachelors,  our  most  fashionable  dancing  or- 
ganization; and  a  note  from  Mrs.  Charley  Summer- 
hays,  the  leader  of  what  the  papers  call  the  "younger 
married  set,"  asking  me  to  a  dance  at  her  house  on 
Tuesday  week.  Mrs.  Summerhays  held  out  the  lure 
that  she  would  have  Caparelli's  Jazz  Band  at  her  af- 
fair. We  do  considerable  dancing  in  our  city. 

I  put  these  various  communications  in  my  coat  pocket 
and  decided  to  go  up  to  the  club  library  to  think  things 
over.  I  was  sure  to  be  undisturbed  there.  No  mem- 
ber of  our  club  ever  goes  to  the  library  except  to  sleep. 
The  big  leather  chairs  are  excellent  mediums  for  rest 
and  recuperation  late  in  the  afternoon.  There  are  plac- 
ards commanding  "Silence!"  posted  about  the  room, 
but  those  are  not  operative  during  the  sleeping  period. 
Some  of  our  members  who  patronize  the  library  sleep 
stertorously. 

Old  Peter  McWhirter,  who  made  a  couple  of  mil- 

44 


STEVE  FOX  APPROVES  45 

lions  in  oil,  lives  in  the  club  and  is  our  most  evident 
antique,  has  a  joke  about  club  libraries  that  he  tells 
insistently.  It  is  his  pet  joke,  and  he  is  proud  of  it. 
He  takes  it  out  and  exhibits  it  every  time  he  can  corner 
a  listener.  Peter  would  be  without  means  of  conver- 
sational human  intercourse  if  he  were  deprived  of  that 
joke,  for  one  Scotch  and  soda  stupefies  him  for  three 
hours,  and  by  the  time  he  is  showing  signs  of  life  every- 
body has  gone  to  dinner.  They  put  him  to  bed  at 
eight  o'clock. 

"Library?"  squeaks  Peter.  "Ever  heard  that  good 
one  about  the  Atheneum  Club  library  in  London? 
Most  exclusive  and  gloomiest  club  in  the  world.  Get 
that?  Awful  morgue.  Well,  a  man  came  down  stairs 
from  the  library  one  day  and  said  to  the  steward :  'My 
good  fellow,  I  wish  you  would  remove  Sir  John  Mont- 
morency  from  the  library.  He  has  been  dead  for  three 
days.'  " 

That  isn't  a  hard  joke  to  take,  for  it  only  lasts 
a  minute  or  so,  but  if,  by  any  unlucky  chance,  Henry 
Smathers  happens  to  be  about  during  Peter's  recital 
you  are  lost.  Henry  champs  at  the  bit  until  Peter 
cackles  his  finish,  and  does  not  wait  for  the  laugh.  He 
has  an  Atheneum  story — the  one  about  the  new  mem- 
ber and  the  old  member,  and  the  dinner  the  old  member 
gave  the  new  member  because  the  new  member  spoke 
to  the  old  member,  who  had  belonged  to  the  club  for 
twenty-five  years  and  nobody  in  it  had  ever  spoken  to 
him  before — you  know.  It  takes  Henry  Smathers 
forty-five  minutes  to  tell  that  story,  for  he  embellishes 
it  with  a  history  of  the  club,  minute  descriptions  of 
the  prune-colored  pants  the  flunkies  wear,  and  goes 


46  HUNKINS 

learnedly  into  the  emotions  of  the  two  men  and  the 
psychology  of  it  all. 

Often,  there  is  nobody  about  but  Peter  and  Henry. 
Somebody  should  make  a  movie  of  those  occasions. 
Peter  tries  to  tell  his  story  to  Henry  and  Henry  en- 
deavors to  unload  his  story  on  Peter.  Henry  generally 
wins,  as  he  is  younger  than  Peter,  and  they  cart  Peter 
away  to  bed  after  Henry  puts  on  his  final  flourish: 
"That's  it,  you  see.  Member  for  twenty-five  years 
and  nobody  in  the  club  ever  spoke  to  him  before.  Ex- 
traordinary, eh,  what?" 

Peter  was  the  only  person  in  the  smoking  room  as 
I  came  through.  He  was  huddled  down  in  a  big  chair, 
and  looked  miserable  and  old — the  mere  frail  shadow 
of  a  man.  I  thought  it  would  be  a  real  kindness  to 
cheer  him  up.  So  I  walked  over  to  him,  and  said 
cheerily:  "Well,  Mr.  McWhirter,  how  are  you 
to-day?" 

"Poorly,"  he  croaked. 

"Oh,  I'm  sorry.  It  seems  to  me  you  look  especially 
well.  Hope  you'll  soon  get  your  pep  back." 

Then  I  deliberately  set  the  snare  for  myself.  "I  am 
going  up  to  the  library,"  I  said,  and  waited. 

Peter  rolled  a  yellowed  eye  at  me.  He  tried  to 
rise  to  the  occasion,  but  he  couldn't.  He  struggled 
valiantly,  and  then  fell  back:  "Know  a  good  one  about 
club  libraries,  but  can't  tell  it.  Some  other  time.  Ate 
a  piece  of  an  egg  for  lunch,  and  it  distresses  me." 

I  went  along,  thinking  of  my  section  of  the  Sam 
Lazarus  steak,  and  Peter's  piece  of  an  egg.  I  hope 
I'll  never  be  as  old  as  Peter.  He  seems  as  ancient  as 
the  pyramids  to  me — fifty  years  older  than  I  am,  but 


STEVE  FOX  APPROVES  47 

Peter  doesn't  think  he's  old.  He  reads  pieces  in  the 
papers  about  Levi  P.  Morton  and  John  Burroughs, 
and  fancies  himself  a  kid.  As  nearly  as  I  can  figure 
it  out,  no  man  thinks  he  is  old.  I  was  talking  to  Dad 
about  it  one  day.  Dad  is  fifty-four.  I  spoke  of  a  man 
of  sixty  as  old. 

"Mere  child,"  said  Dad.  "Age  is  comparative.  A 
boy  of  seventeen  thinks  a  man  of  forty  is  old  and 
so  on." 

"What  is  your  definition  of  an  old  man?" 

"An  old  man,"  said  Dad,  "is  a  man  who  is  twenty 
years  older  than  you  are." 

There  was  no  one  in  the  library,  not  even  the  libra- 
rian. I  selected  a  big,  red-leather  chair  over  in  the 
corner,  settled  myself  in  it,  and  reviewed  my  day. 

"Three  times  at  bat  and  struck  out  three  times,"  I 
thought.  "A  percentage  of  zero — zero — zero.  The 
noes  have  it,  unanimously.  Dad  says  it  is  foolish. 
Fred  and  Jimmie  say  it  is  assinine,  and  the  Third 
National  crowd  say  it  is  a  combination  of  both,  as 
well  as  bad  for  business.  Total  loss  and  no  insurance, 
so  far." 

I  expected  to  sit  there  and  think  out  a  programme 
clearly.  Instead,  I  found  that  I  couldn't  think  clearly. 
The  fact  is,  I  only  had  a  vague  conception,  not  a 
series  of  premises  and  conclusion.  I  was  firm  in  my 
belief  that  the  returning  soldiers  are  so  drilled  in  the 
value  of  organization  that  they  can  be  put  together, 
or  held  together,  to  do  things  in  peace  just  as  they  did 
them  in  war.  They  will  appreciate  the  value  of  po- 
litical participation  by  their  solidarity,  as  that  is  the 
way  we  utilize  organization  for  an  effect  on  govern- 


48  HUNKINS 

ment  in  this  country;  and  government  means  power, 
and  power  means  successful  politics.  That  is  plain 
enough. 

Government  —  means  —  power  — and  —  power — 
means — successful — politics.  That  formula  repeated 
itself  in  my  mind  a  dozen  times.  Then  it  reversed 
itself  —  successful  —  politics  —  means  —  power — 
and — power — means — government.  That  was  more 
logical.  Then  I  saw  that  I  had  left  out  organization.  I 
reconstructed  it — organization — means — successful — 
politics  —  and  —  successful  —  politics  —  means — 
power — and — power — means — government.  I  conned 
that  repeatedly.  I  saw  the  thing  work  out.  Ten  thou- 
sand soldiers  were  formed  in  a  all-for-one — one-for-all 
body  behind  me.  We  marched  to  the  polls  and  threw 
Tom  Pendergrast  and  Bill  Hunkins  out.  I  could  see 
Pendergrast  running  to  escape  our  wrath.  We  took 
over  the  City  Hall.  I  was  mayor.  I  walked  out  on  the 
steps  of  the  Hall,  and  made  a  speech  while  my  organ- 
ized soldiers  and  their  women  folk  cheered  me  wildly. 
I  swept  the  offices  clean  of  all  the  political  parasites 
and  put  a  soldier  in  each  one.  I  installed  the  women  in 
places  suitable  for  them.  There  were  columns  in  the 
papers  about  it.  It  was  complete.  It  was  epochal. 

Then  Dad  came  along,  and  Fred  Daskin,  and  Jim- 
mie  Chambers,  and  a  procession  of  the  directors  of 
the  Third  National,  headed  by  Mr.  Hull  and  Mr.  Per- 
kins, and  they  dragged  me  out  of  the  Mayor's  chair, 
and  stuck  me  back  in  the  pump  works,  and  I  heard  them 
say:  "Of  course  you  can't  do  it.  It's  foolish.  It's 
worse  than  that.  It  isn't  your  job.  You  can't  whip 
Tom  Pendergrast  and  Bill  Hunkins,  and  if  you  do 


STEVE  FOX  APPROVES  49 

you'll  spoil  a  lot  of  things  we  are  interested  in.  It's 
filthy  work.  Forget  it  and  go  back  to  business." 

"I  can  beat  them!"  I  shouted,  struggling  to  get 

free.  "I  can — I  can "  and  I  looked  up  from  the 

leather  chair  and  found  Peter  McWhirter,  supported 
by  a  club  servant  in  uniform,  weaving  back  and  forth 
on  his  unsteady  legs  over  me,  and  the  "Silence"  signs 
glaring  coldly  down  at  me. 

"George,"  cackled  Peter  McWhirter,  "I  see  the 
library  got  you.  Gets  'em  all.  Reminds  me  of  a 
story  about  the  library  of  the  Atheneum  in  London. 
It  seems " 

I  fled  to  the  other  end  of  the  great  room,  and  the 
servant  led  Peter  out,  still  cackling  his  story.  It  made 
me  laugh  to  think  I  had  been  found  by  Peter,  and  it 
made  me  stop  laughing  to  think  that  I  went  to  sleep 
over  my  plan.  But  the  dream  I  had  made  an  impres- 
sion. My  defiance  remained  strong  in  my  mind  and 
my  shout:  "I  can — I  can!" 

"What's  to  hinder  my  doing  it?  I'm  not  beaten 
yet.  I  know  it  can  be  done  and  I'm  going  to  do  it  or 
— or — bust!"  I  concluded,  not  being  able,  at  the  mo- 
ment, to  conceive  a  more  refined  manner  in  which  the 
enterprise  might  personally  finish  if  unsuccessful. 

The  determination  grew  stronger  and  stronger.  My 
rest  had  given  me  new  courage.  "I'll  try  it,"  I  swore 
to  myself.  "I'll  start  an  organization  of  the  men  who 
went  to  war,  if  that  can  be  done,  and  I'll  try  to  use 
that  organization  not  for  any  selfish  ends  but  for  the 
advantage  of  this  city.  That's  settled."  I  was  all 
enthusiasm. 

Enthusiasm  is  a  great  thing,  but  the  war  taught  me 


50  HUNKINS 

that  there  should  be  a  side  dish  of  precaution  served 
with  it.  My  company  took  a  nest  of  machine  guns 
near  Fismes  one  day  with  our  Bayonets  and  our  bare 
hands;  but  when  the  Colonel  came  to  see  me  in  the 
hospital  he  said,  glorious  as  the  exploit  was — I  am 
quoting  him — we  might  have  done  it  easier,  and  as 
effectively,  perhaps,  if  we  had  come  in  from  the  sides 
instead  of  making  a  straight  rush  at  the  Huns.  I 
always  shall  remember  that. 

"I'll  try  it.  That's  all  well  enough,  but  I  can't  do 
it  alone.  I  need  help,  and  sympathetic  cooperation, 
and  a  lot  of  each.  Dad  is  against  me.  Fred  and  Jim- 
mie,  my  closest  friends,  are  scoffers.  The  men  at  the 
bank  are  horrified  for  business  reasons.  Who  will  I 
get?" 

I  catalogued  those  who  might  be  useful,  and  dis- 
missed most  of  them,  holding  out  a  few  as  possible, 
but  without  much  hope  that  they  would  take  part. 
Most  of  the  men  I  knew,  I  concluded,  would  have 
either  the  Dad  and  Third  National  view  of  it,  or 
look  at  it  the  same  way  Fred  and  Jimmie  do.  Then  I 
thought  of  Steve  Fox.  That  was  an  inspiration. 

Steve  Fox  and  I  were  seatmates  and  classmates  at 
the  grammar  school  and  classmates  in  High  School. 
Then  I  went  to  college,  and  Steve  got  a  reporter's  job 
on  the  News,  our  biggest  morning  paper.  Steve  always 
had  an  edge  on  me  in  school,  for  he  is  quicker-witted 
than  I  am,  and  is  a  natural  born  politician.  He  ran 
all  the  school  politics,  manipulated  the  secret  societies, 
and  was  forever  making  combinations,  and  having  cau- 
cuses, and  voting  the  students  as  he  chose.  He  and 
I  are  close  friends.  He  now  does  the  city  politics  for 


$1 

the  News,  and  reports  the  state  legislature.  Pretty 
soon  they'll  send  him  to  Washington.  He  has  a  great 
flair  for  politics.  Steve  knows  our  local  politics  inside 
and  out,  and  all  the  politicians  fear  him  and  respect 
him,  for  he  won't  play  in  with  them,  and  tells  the 
truth  about  them  as  much  as  is  compatible  with  the 
policy  of  the  paper. 

I  hustled  downstairs  and  called  the  News  on  the 
telephone.  Steve  was  there. 

"Steve,  this  is  George  Talbot  talking.  I  want  to 
see  you.  Come  and  have  dinner  with  me  to-night." 

"You're  on.    Where?" 

I  looked  at  my  watch,  although  that  was  superfluous. 
The  sounds  from  the  smoking  room  told,  unmistakably, 
that  it  was  about  quarter  past  six. 

"Rossiter's  at  seven  o'clock."  Rossiter's  is  a  quiet 
place  where  there  is  always  something  good  in  the  ice- 
box— game  out  of  season,  and  early  fruit  and  vege- 
tables. 

"It's  a  bet;  seven,  at  Rossiter's." 

As  I  came  out  of  the  telephone  booth  I  put  my 
hand  in  my  coat  pocket  and  felt  the  invitations.  I 
didn't  go  into  the  smoking  room.  Instead  I  went  into 
the  writing  room,  sent  my  politest  regrets  to  each 
hostess,  and  to  the  Bachelors  and  threw  the  invitations 
into  the  grate. 

"No  time  for  that  sort  of  stuff  now,"  I  thought, 
and  I  felt  righteous  and  inspired  and  consecrated — 
sort  of  an  I-come-to-deliver-you  feeling,  as  nearly  as 
I  can  analyze  it. 

Sam  Abernathy  came  in  as  I  was  putting  on  my 
overcoat.  "Cocktail,  George?"  he  asked. 


'52  HUNKINS 

"No;  thanks." 

Sam  stopped.  "Wherefore  this  sudden  access  of 
virtue,  Georgie?"  he  asked.  "We  don't  go  dry  until 
July  first,  you  know.  Better  get  a  few  while  you  can.'* 

"Don't  want  any,  thanks." 

"It's  true,  then?" 

"What's  true?" 

"Fred  Daskin  told  me  this  afternoon  that  you  have 
a  glare  in  your  eyes  and  are  going  to  reform  the  world, 
including  Tom  Pendergrast  and  Bill  Hunkins.  Good 
luck,  only  don't  let  them  catch  you  at  it." 

I  could  hear  them  laughing  in  the  smoking  room  be- 
fore I  got  my  hat  and  stick.  Sam  hurried  in  to  spread 
the  news. 

"I'll  show  them,"  I  declaimed  to  myself.  That  was 
a  consolatory  determination.  It  helped  a  lot. 

Steve  was  waiting  at  Rossiter's,  talking  politics  with 
Rossiter  himself,  who  is  one  of  Tom  Pendergrast's 
men.  Steve  knows  everybody  in  the  city,  apparently. 
I  saw  him  walking  down  Main  Street  one  day  arm  in 
arm  with  Orlando  J.  Huggins,  and  Orlando  J.  is  the 
most-aloof  personage  we  have.  He  was  first  assistant 
secretary  of  state  for  six  weeks  once,  at  the  wind-ug 
of  an  administration,  and  never  recovered;  and  I've 
seen  Steve  in  intimate  discourse  with  Tony  Milano, 
who  is  the  Italian  boss,  although  he  printed  a  story  on 
Tony  one  time  that  made  Tony  swear  he'd  stiletto 
Steve. 

Tony  went  up  to  get  his  final  naturalization  papers. 
The  judge  questioned  him  about  his  knowledge  of 
America. 


STEVE  FOX  APPROVES  53 

"Have  you  read  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States,  Mr.  Milano?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"What  do  you  think  of  it?" 

"I  think  it  are  very  nice." 

Still,  Steve  is  always  getting  away  with  things  like 
that.  "Hello,  Steve  I"  I  said. 

"Hello,  George!    What's  on  your  mind?" 

"Let's  get  some  food  and  I'll  tell  you." 

Rossiter  had  a  contraband  canvasback  in  the  ice 
box,  and  he  fixed  that  for  us,  and  some  other  things, 
including  a  little  of  the  champagne  saved  for  his  regu- 
lars. Steve  and  I  talked  mostly  about  the  Army  while, 
we  were  eating.  Steve  went  into  the  Military  Intelli- 
gence as  a  captain  and  made  a  record.  He  was  sta- 
tioned in  New  York  and  dug  up  a  good  many  pro-Ger- 
man gentlemen  who  were  needed  at  and  sent  to  Fort 
Oglethorpe.  Rossiter  buzzed  along,  with  some  especial 
cigars,  and  after  the  coffee  came  Steve,  again: 

"What's  on  your  mind,  George?" 

"Steve,  I've  got  an  idea  about  politics.  I'm  think- 
ing of  going  into  politics,  in  fact." 

Steve  laughed.  "Say  not  so,"  he  said.  "You'll  soil 
your  lily-white  hands,  and  may  put  a  daub  or  two  on 
your  hitherto  spotless  reputation — if  such  it  is.  What 
can  you  do  in  politics?" 

"I  don't  know,  That's  what  I  want  to  talk  to  you 
about." 

"Yes,  yes;  go  on." 

"Look  here,  Steve;  take  this  seriously,  please." 

"My  boy,  I'm  as  serious  as  a  woman's  club  dis- 
cussing pre-Raphaelism.  Proceed." 


54  HUNKINS 

"I'll  try  to  explain  it  to  you,  but  I  haven't  got  it 
very  clearly  myself.  It's  only  the  germ  of  an  idea 
so  far,  but  this  is  it :  I  went  into  the  Army.  You  kno\r 
I  didn't  do  much  but  play  around  before  that.  Well, 
the  Army  taught  me  a  lot  of  things,  and  gave  me  a 
lot  of  ideas,  and  the  principal  idea  is  that  if  some- 
body, me,  for  instance,  and  some  others  who  think  as 
I  do,  can  hold  together  these  soldiers  who  are  coming 
back  to  this  town,  organize  them,  and  keep  them  in  line, 
a  lot  can  be  done  in  the  way  of  cleaning  up  this  city, 
getting  a  better  administration,  and  putting  things  on 
a  higher  basis." 

"Might  be." 

Then  I  outlined  my  thoughts  to  him,  speaking  more 
freely  than  I  had  to  any  of  the  others.  I  gave  him 
my  ideas  as  to  the  view  of  the  soldier,  of  the  benefits 
that  might  be  derived,  and  pointed  out  that  now  is 
the  time  to  go  at  it  when  the  punch  of  organization 
is  still  in  them,  and  the  recollection  of  its  effectiveness 
and  value  still  strong.  I  talked  for  half  an  hour, 
vaguely,  at  times,  I  suppose,  but  earnestly.  The  trend 
of  it  was  that  these  soldiers  might  be  organized  by 
somebody.  Why  not  me? 

"Of  course,"  said  Steve,  after  I  had  finished,  "that 
isn't  an  original  idea,  by  a  long  shot.  A  hundred 
thousand  men  all  over  this  country  have  had  it,  and 
are  trying  to  work  it  out.  The  soldiers  have  it  them- 
selves. Everybody's  got  it.  I  know  that  Bill  Hunkins 
is  active  along  those  lines,  to  grab  as  many  of  the 
boys  as  he  can  for  himself.  Half  a  dozen  so-called 
national  organizations  are  projected.  Don't  think  you 
are  a  pioneer  in  this,  for  you're  not,  but  if  you  can 


STEVE  FOX  APPROVES  5$ 

get  at  it,  with  your  Army  experience,  and  your  com- 
radeship established,  you  may  be  able  to  beat  some 
of  these  other  Johnnies  out.  It  will  be  a  tough  game." 

"I  don't  care  how  tough  it  is.  I'm  going  to  tackle 
it.  Will  you  help?" 

"Sure;  anything  for  excitement  and  copy.  I'll  tell 
you  a  man  you  ought  to  talk  to." 

"Who?" 

"Tommie  Dowd." 

"I  never  heajd  of  him." 

"Probably  not,  but  Pershing  has.  He  pinned  a  Dis- 
tinguished Service  Cross  on  Tommie  over  in  France. 


CHAPTER  V 

I  HEAR  OF  DOWD 

MIKE  DOWD,  Tommie's  father,  keeps  a  sa- 
loon down  in  the  Ninth  Ward,"  Steve  con- 
tinued.    "Mike's    lament    to    his    cronies 
over  Tommie's   lack  of  business  acumen 
when  Tommie  announced  his  plans  to  study  law,  is  a 
classic  in  that  neighborhood. 

"  'The  boy's  a  fool  entirely,'  wailed  Mike.  '! 
offered  to  set  him  up  in  business  with  a  nice  little 
saloon  of  his  own,  and  give  him  a  respectable  start, 
and  he's  gone  philanderin'  off  to  study  law.  Law, 
is  it?  God  help  us  that  a  Dowd  should  come  to  such 
an  end.' 

"Dowd's  saloon  is  a  sort  of  a  political  headquarters 
for  the  Pendergrast  outfit  down  in  the  Ninth.  All 
the  little  ward  deals  and  intrigues  are  framed  there. 
Tommie  grew  up  in  that  atmosphere,  but  was  not 
spoiled  by  it.  He  is  bright  and  keen,  and  he  listened 
and  learned  when  they'd  let  him,  but  even  when  he  got 
past  boyhood  went  no  further  than  that.  Mrs.  Dowd 
is  a  good,  religious  woman.  She  sent  Tommie  to  the 
parochial  school  and  to  the  Jesuit  College  that  Brother 
Francis  Xavier  runs, — ever  know  Brother  Francis 
Xavier? — a  fine  citizen  with  the  unerring  instinct  of 
spotting  the  boys  with  a  talent  for  oratory  and  debate, 

56 


I  HEAR  OF  DOWD  57 

and  the  development  of  them.  He  paid  a  good  deal 
of  attention  to  Tommie,  and  when  Tommie  finished 
and  got  his  diploma  he  was,  among  other  things,  a 
fair  kid  logician  and  debater  and  could  make  a  passable 
oration.  He's  developed  that  faculty  since.  He  talks 
pretty  well. 

"He  Was  a  good  athlete,  specializing  on  baseball, 
and  became  one  of  those  youthful  phenom  pitchers, 
who  did  stunts  like  one  and  two-hit  games  to  his  oppo- 
nents, a  big,  up-standing  chap  with  a  world  of  speed. 
They  tried  to  get  him  for  professional  ball,  but  he 
had  other  ideas.  While  Brother  Francis  Xavier  was 
training  Tommie  in  debate  and  disputation,  and  teach- 
ing him  the  elementary  classics,  Tommie  was  lusting 
for  adventure.  He  wanted  to  see  things,  and  do 
things.  So  three  weeks  after  he  graduated  he  slipped 
up  to  the  recruiting  office  one  day  and  enlisted  in  the 
Marines.  His  size  got  him  past,  and  the  physical 
perfection  of  him.  He  absolved  home  difficulties  by 
giving  the  name  of  a  doting  aunt  as  next  of  kin,  and 
she  stood  for  it.  He  was  eighteen  then,  a  big,  husky 
chap.  He  was  three  years  in  the  Marines  and  saw 
service  in  Santo  Domingo,  Haiti,  Panama,  China — all 
over  the  place. 

"When  he  came  back  home  he  said  he  had  had 
enough  of  soldiering,  and  would  go  into  the  law.  Old 
Mike  again  pleaded  with  him  to  retain  inviolate  the 
respectability  of  the  Dowds,  and  if  he  wouldn't  let  him 
open  a  saloon  for  him  at  least  to  tend  bar  at  the  old 
home  place,  and  thus  gradually  take  over  its  conduct. 
Tommie  was  adamant.  Mike  was  about  to  cast  him 
off,  but  his  mother  interceded  and  the  old  man  allowed 


5.8  HUNKIN9 

Tommie  to  live  at  Home  while  he  studied.  He  passed 
'his  preliminary  examinations  after  boning  up  with 
Brother  Francis  Xavier,  and  learned  stenography  and 
typewriting,  which  eventually  gave  him  a  small  job  in 
a  law  office. 

"All  the  time  he  stayed  in  the  Ninth  Ward,  mixing 
with  the  boys  who  grew  up  with  him,  listening  to  the 
politics,  getting  acquainted,  and  keeping  in  touch  with 
that  angle  of  life.  After  he  was  admitted  he  got  a 
very  junior  partnership  with  a  big  firm,  and  started 
at  it.  Then  the  war  came.  Tommie  didn't  wait  for  a 
chance  at  an  officer's  training  camp,  nor  ask  any  of 
his  political  friends  to  help  him  to  a  commission.  He 
jumped  right  into  the  regulars  as  a  private — enlisted 
before  we  declared  war,  at  the  first  signs  of  it.  Nat- 
urally, with  his  ability,  and  his  military  training  behind 
him,  he  became  a  non-com,  in  no  time,  and  was  soon 
a  top  sergeant.  He  went  to  France  with  the  First 
Division,  and  was  all  through  it  over  there,  with  that 
fighting  bunch.  He  got  the  Croix  de  Guerre  for  some 
stunt  he  pulled,  and  the  Distinguished  Service  Cross 
for  another.  After  it  was  over  he  got  out  as  quickly 
as  he  could,  came  home,  and  now  he's  back  at  the  law. 

"I  don't  know  any  young  fellow  who  has  a  more 
detailed  knowledge  of  this  political  game  here,  nor 
more  definite  ideas  about  the  way  it  is  played.  Tom- 
mie can  get  in  with  the  gang  in  two  minutes  if  he 
wants  to,  but  he  doesn't.  He  knows  too  much  about 
it.  Besides,  he  has  your  view  of  it,  too;  only,  if  you'll 
excuse  me,  a  lot  better  thought  out  and  closer  to  the 
minds  and  methods  of  the  soldiers,  for  he  served  with 
them,  right  among  them,  all  the  way  through. 


I  HEAR  OF  DOWD  59 

"IVe  talked  some  with  him.  He  thinks,  as  you 
seem  to,  that  there  is  a  great  chance  to  do  something 
big  with  these  returned  soldiers.  You'd  better  get  in 
touch  with  him." 

"He's  the  man,"  I  said,  much  impressed  with  Steve's 
recital.  "Where  is  he?" 

"You  can  find  him  to-morrow  at  the  office  of  Spald- 
ing,  Sinclair  and  Jackson,  Occidental  Building.  I'll 
give  you  a  card  to  him." 

Steve  wrote  a  few  lines  on  a  card,  and  we  walked 
uptown  together. 

"By  the  way,  George,"  said  Steve,  as  we  parted  in 
front  of  the  News  office,  "Dowd  has  a  good  many 
convictions  that  will  not  jibe  with  your  view  and  cir- 
cumstances of  life.  He  isn't  a  socialist,  per  se,  but  his 
sympathies  are  all  with  the  men  who  work.  He  is 
inclined  to  be  contemptuous  of  more  or  less  gay  social 
butterflies  like  you,  and  holds  that  political  conditions 
here  are  as  they  are  because  the  average  business  man, 
the  big  business  man,  and  the  idle  rich  take  no  active 
participating  interest  beyond  complaining  at  them  and 
damning  the  system.  A  man  with  a  million  dollars, 
or  the  heir  to  ten  millions,  doesn't  awe  him  a  particle, 
and  he  talks  plainly  on  occasion,  so  plainly  that  it  makes 
the  average  millionairish  head  ache.  He's  a  straight- 
spoken,  hard-headed,  two-fisted  person,  outside,  but 
when  you  get  into  him  you  will  find  that  he  assays 
pretty  heavily  to  the  pound  in  common-sense  idealism, 
which  is  the  best  way  I  can  describe  it.  That  is,  he 
has  a  reform  streak  without  the  usual  mush — and — im- 
practical trimmings. 

"He  has  an  ironical  sense  of  humor,  joshes  a  good 


60  HUNKINS 

deal,  and  does  not  spare  himself — a  bully  fellow  all 
'round.  Listen  to  him  if  he'll  talk,  but  don't  pull  any 
captain-and-sergeant  stuff  on  him  or  he'll  kid  you  to 
a  frazzle.  Good-night." 

I  walked  home  considerably  cheered  by  what  Steve 
had  told  me.  I  now  had  a  tangible  lead  for  the  first 
time  since  I  decided  to  go  into  politics.  I  stepped  along 
jubilantly,  full  of  enthusiasm,  and  beginning  to  estab- 
lish my  own  position  in  the  undertaking  like  this : 

"My  main  thought  is  to  render  civic  service,  and 
service  to  the  soldiers,  but  there  is  a  personal  equation, 
also.  Captain  George  Talbot  must  get  something  out 
of  it.  What?  Not  office.  I  am  clear  on  that.  Not 
money.  That  suggestion  is  debasing.  Leadership? 
The  satisfaction  of  doing  things?  Yes.  That's  it.  I 
ought  to  lead.  That  seems  little  enough  for  me  to 
get." 

I  was  smug  and  satisfied  when  I  turned  in  at  our 
house.  Dad  was  in  his  little  room,  studying  a  set  of 
blue  prints. 

"That  you,  George?"  he  called. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Built  that  fire  under  Hunkins  and  Pendergrast 
yet?" 

"Not  yet." 

"Be  sure  you  have  plenty  of  kindling  before  you 
begin.  They  are  rather  non-inflammable  and  well 
asbestoed,  so  to  speak." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  about  that." 

"Don't  you?    Well,  you'll  learn.     Good-night." 

Darn  Dad!  He's  always  taking  the  joy  out  of  life. 
He  hasn't  an  inch  of  vision  beyond  pumps. 


I  HEAR  OF  DOWD  61 

We  live  together  in  a  big  house  on  Poplar  Street, 
in  the  Second  Ward,  which  is  called  the  Silk-stocking 
Ward,  because  it  contains  a  good  many  of  the  rich 
people  of  the  city.  Mother  died  four  years  ago,  and 
both  my  sisters  are  married,  and  have  babies.  Like 
every  other  man  of  his  sort,  Dad  is  a  plumb  idiot  over 
those  grand-children.  "Finest  experience  in  life,"  he 
often  says  to  me,  "is  to  have  grand-children.  You 
have  all  the  joy  out  of  the  kids,  and  none  of  the 
responsibilities." 

We  had  breakfast  together.  I  couldn't  get  in  a 
word,  even  if  I  had  wanted  to.  Those  blue  prints 
had  to  do  with  a  new  sort  of  a  pump  more  powerful 
than  any  we  made,  and  Dad  babbled  about  that  mar- 
velous mechanism  until  the  man  came  in  and  told  him 
his  car  was  waiting. 

"What's  on  to-day,  George?"  he  asked  as  he  rose 
to  go. 

"I'm  going  to  see  a  man." 

"Politics?" 

"Perhaps." 

Dad  laughed.    Darn  Dad! 

I  sat  around  until  ten  o'clock,  looking  over  the 
papers.  I  noticed  that  Steve  Fox  had  a  political  article 
in  the  News  telling  about  a  special  election  that  is  to 
be  held  in  three  weeks  to  fill  two  vacancies  in  the 
Board  of  Aldermen,  one  of  them  in  the  Second  Ward, 
and  I  remembered  that  the  ancient  stuffed  shirt  who 
represented  us  on  the  Board  went  to  his  reward  a 
few  weeks  before.  His  name  was  Octavius  K.  Porter, 
and  he  was  a  decayed  capitalist;  had  been  rich  but 
lost  his  money,  and  Hunkins  picked  him  up  and  made 


62  HUNKINS 

an  Alderman  of  him  to  give  tone  to  that  gang  of 
highbinders. 

Porter  was  a  frightful  bore,  who  made  speeches  on 
every  occasion,  and  deviled  the  editors  to  get  them 
printed.  He  hadn't  had  a  thought  for  forty  years, 
and  could  use  more  words  in  setting  forth  that  condi- 
tion of  his  mind  than  any  man  in  the  world;  but  he 
always  voted  right  on  the  Board,  which  was  the  main 
point.  Several  men  were  mentioned  in  Steve's  article 
as  possible  successors  to  Porter.  "No  candidate  is 
selected  as  yet,"  said  Steve.  "The  political  destinies 
of  the  Second  Ward  are  in  the  hands  of  William  Hun- 
kins.  The  Pendergrast  crowd  are  not  much  interested. 
There  is  no  chance  for  them  to  win,  and  they  may  not 
contest." 

The  telephone  rang  as  I  was  about  to  call  the 
office  of  Spalding,  Sinclair  and  Jackson.  It  was  Fred 
Daskin. 

"Hello,  George !  How's  the  military  Mark  Hanna 
this  morning?" 

"Cut  that  out,"  I  snarled.  "I've  had  enough  of 
that." 

"Oh,  very  well,  only  I  was  just  reading  in  the  News 
about  that  vacancy  in  the  Board  of  Aldermen  from 
your  ward.  Why  don't  you  start  your  career  that  way, 
George?  Many  a  man  who  has  risen  to  political  emi- 
nence made  a  lowly  start.  Of  course,  history  records 
few  who  began  so  far  down  scale  as  our  Board  of 
Aldermen,  but  I  feel  you  have  it  in  you  to  conquer 
even  that  handicap.  You'd  be  a  grand  little  Alder- 
man, and  could  get  us  the  civic  auditorium  for  noth- 
ing for  big  dances." 


I  HEAR  OF  DOWD  63 

"Cheese  it!" 

"Besides,"  continued  Daskin,  "all  the  eminent  up- 
lifters  tell  us  that  reform  is  best  accomplished  from 
within  rather  than  from  without.  You'll  be  right  there 
with  Bill  Hunkins,  and  Tom  Pendergrast  and  all  the 
boys.  Better  go  to  it.  I  pledge  you  the  support  of 
the  Bachelors  right  here  and  now.  Meantime,  come 
on  and  make  up  a  foresome  at  Weehawis.  How 
about  it?"  i 

"I'm  busy.  Good-by."  I  slammed  the  receiver 
on  the  hook.  Fred  Daskin  makes  me  tired.  Joshing 
is  all  right.  I  do  some  of  it  myself,  but  there  are 
limits. 

After  I  had  cooled  down  I  called  Spalding,  Sinclair 
and  Jackson,  and  asked: 

"Is  Mr.  Dowd  in?" 

"He  is.    Who  is  calling,  please?" 

"Captain  George  Talbot." 

Presently,  I  heard:  "This  is  Mr.  Dowd." 

"I  have  a  card  of  introduction  to  you  from  Steve 
Fox,  and  I  want  to  talk  to  you  on  a  political  matter. 
When  may  I  call?" 

"Come  now." 

Half  an  hour  later  I  walked  into  Dowd's  room.  A 
big,  broad-shouldered,  red-cheeked,  black-haired  man 
rose  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"I'm  Dowd,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  VI 

DOWD  SETS  ME  STRAIGHT 

I   KNOW  your   father,"    Dowd  continued,   after 
pulling  out  a  chair  for  me.     "We  got  well  ac- 
quainted during  that  row  over  the  new  water 
works.    A  fine  man.    Hard  as  nails.    Demands 
results,  but  he  has  imagination,  for  all  that." 
"Dad  has?    Why  all  he  sees  is  pumps." 
"Do  you  think  so?"     Dowd's  black  eyes  twinkled 
at  me,  and  he  smiled  a  little  smile.     "But,  then,  sons 
don't  know  much  about  their  fathers,  do  they?" 

"They  know  as  much  as  fathers  know  about  their 


sons." 


"May  be  so.  Excuse  me.  I  didn't  intend  to  start 
anything.  Can  I  be  of  any  service  to  you?" 

"Perhaps  we  may  be  of  some  service  to  one  another. 
I  was  talking  to  Steve  Fox  last  night,  and  outlined  an 
idea  I  have  in  mind.  It's  about  the  returned  soldiers. 
I  was  in  the  Army." 

Dowd  bowed  in  recognition  of  that  important  fact. 
"Back  up,"  I  said  to  myself.  "Where  do  you  get  off 
with  this  talk  about  being  in  the  Army  to  a  man  who 
fought  with  the  First  Division,  and  has  a  Croix  de 
Guerre  and  a  Distinguished  Service  Cross?" 

"I  don't  mean  that  that  gives  me  any  particular  dis- 

64 


DOWD  SETS  ME  STRAIGHT  65 

tinction.  So  were  a  lot  of  other  chaps  in  the  Army. 
What  I  mean  is  that  as  I  was  in  the  Army  I  have  a 
sort  of  an  appreciation  of  what  the  big  lesson  of  the 
Army  is." 

"What  do  you  think  that  lesson  is?" 

"That  the  individual  is  helpless,  while  the  organiza- 
tion of  individuals  is  resistless." 

I  rather  fancied  that  sentence.  I  thought  it  out  my- 
self. Dowd  received  it  calmly.  In  fact,  he  received 
it  with  a  smile,  and  said: 

"It's  simple  enough.  How  does  the  Federation  of 
Labor,  or  any  labor  union,  get  its  results?  How  do 
the  bosses  hold  this  city  in  their  grasp?  How  does 
your  father  sell  more  pumps  than  the  Glassford  outfit? 
Organization.  That's  all  there  is  to  it.  The  labor 
men  are  organized.  Bill  Hunkins  has  an  organization, 
so  has  Tom  Pendergrast,  and  so  has  John  Talbot,  and 
they  are  efficient.  That's  the  solution  of  any  problem 
in  this  country — efficient  organization.  It  didn't  take 
the  deaths  of  twenty  million  men  and  the  expenditure 
of  a  hundred  billion  dollars  to  prove  that.  Those 
bloody  and  expensive  details  simply  emphasized  the 
fact." 

He  seemed  serious  enough,  but  there  was  a  twinkle 
in  his  eye,  and  a  sort  of  an  amused  tolerance  about 
him  that  made  me  swallow  hard  once  or  twice. 

"Even  so,"  I  said,  plunging  ahead,  "what  you  say 
merely  gives  point  to  what  I  have  in  mind." 

"And  that  is?" 

"An  organization  of  these  returned  soldiers,  in  this 
city,  for  the  purpose  of  getting  a  better  administration, 
through  the  political  strength  of  that  organization,  and 


66  HUNKINS 

to  secure  such  incidental  benefits  as  may  accrue  for  the 
soldiers  themselves." 

I  thought  this  would  be  a  free  and  easy  talk,  but  here 
I  was  searching  my  vocabulary  for  sonorous  rhetoric 
and  statesmanlike  phrases,  talking  as  an  uplift  editorial 
writer  writes. 

Dowd  smiled  again.  This  smile  was  almost  a  laugh. 
It  was  embarrassing.  I  felt  as  if  I  had  declaimed  to 
him  that  the  world  is  round,  or  sugar  is  sweet  or  im- 
parted some  other  similar  important  information. 
Dad  makes  me  feel  that  way  now  and  then.  My  vanity 
gave  me  the  cue  for  a  dignified  exit.  But  my  common 
sense  whispered:  "Hang  on !  Steve  says  this  chap  may 
be  useful." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "that  might  be  done.  The  idea  oc- 
curred to  some  of  us  before  we  came  home  from 
France.  A  few  of  my  friends  and  myself  are  already 
working  out  such  a  plan." 

"You  are?" 

There  was  both  surprise  and  dismay  in  that  ques- 
tion. "They've  beaten  me  to  it,"  I  thought,  and  a 
future  devoted  to  the  pump  business  stretched  drably 
before  me. 

"We  are,  but  we  have  no  monopoly  on  it."  Dowd 
saw  my  dismay  and  tried  to  cheer  me  up. 

"A  lot  of  other  people  are  working  on  it,  too,  both 
here  and  elsewhere.  That  doesn't  worry  us,  and  it 
shouldn't  worry  you,  if  you  really  are  in  earnest,  and 
don't  want  to  play  this  game  just  for  the  personal 
glorification  of  it.  The  whole  success  of  what  is  done 
will  depend  on  how  it  is  organized.  We  think  we'll 


DOWD  SETS  ME  STRAIGHT  67 

have  the  better  organization.  Maybe  not,  but  we 
think  so." 

"Who's  we?" 

"A  few  friends  of  mine." 

"Oh." 

Now  it  was  time  for  me  to  go.  I  wasn't  getting 
anywhere.  I  rose.  Dowd  put  out  a  detaining  hand. 
"Don't  hurry,"  he  said.  "Let's  talk  it  over."  He 
offered  me  a  cigar  and  lighted  one  himself.  Ordinarily, 
I  do  not  smoke  cigars,  but  I'd  smoke  that  one  if  it 
killed  me. 

"Just  what  is  your  idea  of  what  can  be  done  with 
these  boys  who  were  in  the  Army  and  their  women 
folks?" 

I  hashed  over  what  I  had  been  saying  to  Dad,  and 
Fred  and  Jimmie,  and  the  rest  of  them.  Dowd  listened 
patiently.  I  felt  like  a  student  trying  to  state  a  con- 
clusion without  any  definite  knowledge  of  the  contribut- 
ing reasons  therefor. 

After  I  had  finished  Dowd  puffed  a  few  times  at 
his  cigar. 

"You  have  the  outline  of  it,"  he  said,  "but  not  the 
detail.  I  had  the  advantage  of  you.  I  was  with  the 
boys  all  the  time.  I  ate  with  them,  slept  with  them, 
fought  with  them,  and  heard  their  talk.  Will  it  bore 
you  if  I  give  you  my  idea  of  what  is  in  the  minds  of 
those  lads?" 

"I  wish  you  would." 

I  did  wish  he  would.  Every  time  I  tried  to  explain 
myself  I  seemed  vaguer  than  the  time  before.  I  hadn't 
developed  my  idea  beyond  the  germ  stage.  Perhaps 
he  had.  He  began: 


68  HUNKINS 

"This  wasn't  my  first  experience  with  the  private 
soldier.  I  was  three  years  in  the  Marines,  and  got  to 
know  the  mind  of  them  there.  I  enlisted  in  the  regu- 
lars, and  served  with  the  First  Division  all  through  the 
war.  We  went  in  as  regulars,  but  replacements  made 
our  outfit  the  same  as  yours — draft  and  national  guard 
boys,  mostly.  Only  a  few  of  the  originals  lasted 
through.  We  had  enormous  casualties. 

"I  know  those  soldiers.  I  know  that,  although  they 
are  not  concrete  about  it,  they  feel  they  can  do  some- 
thing when  they  get  out  of  the  army.  I  know  that 
only  a  small  proportion  of  them  fancy  military  life 
enough  to  remain  in  the  service  and  that  what  most 
of  them  have  in  mind  is,  first,  to  get  back  to  their  jobs, 
and  second,  to  capitalize,  in  some  way,  their  experi- 
ences and  associations — their  war  comradeship — so  it 
may  benefit  themselves  and  their  country. 

"I  have  read  a  lot  of  speeches  and  articles  and  edi- 
torials about  the  high  ideals  of  the  soldiers  and  their, 
crusading  spirit — the  President  calls  them  'crusading 
youngsters' — but  I  take  all  that  with  reasonable  re- 
serve. I  know  that  the  main,  actuating  idea  of  those 
boys  over  there  in  France  was  to  whip  the  Kaiser  and 
get  back  home,  and  that  the  main,  actuating  idea  of  the 
boys  in  the  camps  here  was  to  get  over  there,  help 
whip  the  Kaiser  and  come  back  home.  They  were 
vague  about  the  idealism  of  it,  and  making  the  world 
safe  for  democracy  didn't  mean  as  much  to  them  as  the 
orators  said  it  did.  Their  chief  impulse  was  that 
Germany  must  be  beaten,  and  the  United  States  was 
the  one  country  that  could  beat  Germany,  and  that  they 
were  the  representatives  of  the  United  States — their 


DOWD  SETS  ME  STRAIGHT  69 

country — for  the  job.  So  they  turned  in  and  did  that 
job,  and  did  it  with  a  courage  and  a  dash  and  an 
efficiency  that  ended  it  half  a  year  before  the  military 
experts  thought  it  could  be  ended.  It  was  an  American 
enterprise  dispatched  in  an  American  way. 

"Now,  they  are  coming  back,  and  what  they  must 
be  taught  in  this  country  is  that  what  they  did  in  France 
is  really  what  it  is,  and  not  what  they,  mostly,  think 
it  is.  That  is,  the  real  purpose  of  their  fighting  and 
the  real  meaning  of  their  victory  must  be  impressed 
on  them,  for  all  this  talk  that  the  average  American 
private  was  filled  with  a  crusading  spirit,  had  a  mission, 
and  was  implanting  an  ideal  when  he  struck  a  German 
with  a  bayonet,  or  blew  him  up  with  a  shell  or  hand 
grenade,  or  drilled  a  hole  in  him  with  a  bullet  I  know 
to  be  piffle — talk — words — an  assertion  of  an  idealism 
that  did  not,  and  does  not  exist. 

"I  know  those  boys.  They  went  to  France  to  end 
the  war,  and  end  it  by  killing  Germans,  and  they  ended 
it  in  exactly  that  decisive  manner.  They  rushed  in  at 
their  country's  call  and  put  out  the  fire,  but  the  reason 
they  put  out  the  fire  wasn't,  as  the  wordsmiths  declare, 
that  they  understood,  completely  or  idealistically,  what 
the  beneficent  effects  of  putting  out  the  fire  would  be. 
They  didn't  go  that  far  into  the  matter.  The  fire  was 
apparent.  They  saw  it,  and  they  put  it  out. 

"Wherefore,  I  hold  it  to  be  the  task  of  those  who 
do  think  a  little  more,  who  realize  the  idealistic  as  well 
as  the  practical  motives  of  our  participation  in  the 
war,  to  sink  into  the  minds  of  these  boys  just  what  their 
great  service  is,  in  terms  of  world  service;  and  to 
develop  that  spirit  and  service  into  another  spirit  and 


70  HUNKINS 

service  that  shall  continue  to  exist  and  be  operative  in 
home  affairs,  and  will  bring,  in  its  home  application, 
two  sorts  of  benefits:  The  greater  benefit  to  the  com- 
munity and  the  lesser,  but  co-related,  benefit  to  the 
men  themselves. 

"In  other  words,  the  task  of  any  person  who  seeks 
to  utilize  the  strength  and  comradely  spirit  and  knowl- 
edge of  organized  strength  of  the  soldiers  is  to  explain 
to  them  why  they  have  that  strength,  to  show  them 
what  they  really  have  done,  and  to  implant  in  their 
minds  the  firm  conviction  that  they  must  not  cease  to 
be  soldiers  after  they  are  out  of  their  military  uni- 
forms but  must  continue  to  be  civic  soldiers,  fighting 
for  better  domestic  conditions  as  they  fought  for  bet- 
ter world  conditions." 

Dowd  held  me  at  strained  attention.  He  had  given 
some  real  thought  to  the  subject,  not  snap-shotted  at  it 
like  me.  "I  agree  with  most  of  it,"  I  thought.  "Any- 
how, he  has  a  clearer  view  than  I  have.  I'll  tell  him 
so." 

He  didn't  give  me  a  chance. 

"Pardon  me,"  he  said,  as  he  lighted  his  cigar,  which 
had  gone  out  as  he  talked.  "I  hope  I  haven't  bored 
you.  I  am  likely  to  forget  how  I  outrage  my  friends 
with  these  dull  speeches — I  suppose  we  are  friends?" 

He  smiled  at  me  so  takingly  that  I  wanted  to  shout: 
"Bet  your  life,  Tommie!"  but  I  compromised  on:  "I 
hope  we  shall  be." 

"So  do  I.  We're  having  a  little  meeting  next  Friday 
night,  at  eight  o'clock,  in  Room  48,  Tucker  Building. 
I'll  be  glad  if  you  will  come  and  so  will  the  others. 


DOWD  SETS  ME  STRAIGHT  71 

I  am  obliged  to  you  for  looking  me  up.  Maybe  we 
can  help  one  another." 

I  rose  again.  The  telephone  bell  rang.  "Send  them 
in,"  Dowd  said. 

"Some  of  the  boys  from  my  company,"  he  said. 
"Don't  go." 

There  was  a  heavy  clumping  in  the  hall.  The  door 
was  violently  opened  and  three  soldiers  appeared  in 
uniform.  Instantly,  Dowd  was  metamorphosed.  He 
changed  from  the  eloquent  talker,  who  had  been  dis- 
secting for  me  the  aggregate  mind  of  the  soldier,  to 
that  very  soldier  whom  he  had  been  analyzing. 

"Hello,  Tommie !  How's  every  little  thing?"  They 
stuck  out  calloused  hands  at  him. 

"Beaucoup,"  Dowd  replied,  shaking  hands  all 
around,  "but  I  want  to  put  you  guys  wise  to  some- 
thing. You  keep  out  of  this  dump  unless  you  want 
to  get  me  fired.  The  Old  Man  won't  stand  for  a 
bunch  of  hoboes  like  you  messing  up  the  place." 

"I'll  say  he  will,"  said  one  of  them,  who  had  two 
gold  service  stripes  on  the  sleeve  of  his  blouse. 

"No  he  won't,  Old  Timer.  You  cut  it  out  and 
meet  me  at  the  regular  dump." 

"Aw,  say,  Tommie,  we  didn't  mean  no  harm." 

"I  know  it.  I'm  just  tellin'  you.  A  guy  who's  a 
risin'  young  lawyer  has  to  throw  a  bluff,  don't  he,  and 
keep  solid  with  the  main  squeeze?  You  wouldn't  bring 
enough  business  to  this  shack  in  forty  years  to  fill  a 
bull  bag.  Now  that  you  are  here,  you  fightin'  sons-of- 
guns,  what's  biting  you?" 

The  soldier  with  the  two  service  stripes  motioned 
towards  me  with  his  head. 


72  HUNKINS 

"He's  all  right,"  said  Dowd.  "Boys,  this  is  Cap- 
tain  Talbot,  of  the  A.  E.  F.  He  was  over  there,  too." 

From  long  habit,  the  three  soldiers  stiffened  as  if 
to  salute. 

"Nix,"  said  Dowd.  "He's  out,  and  one  of  us. 
What's  your  troubles?" 

"You  know  that  gang  down  in  the  Eleventh  Ward. 
Well,  they're  playin'  'round  with  the  Pendergrast  outfit. 
We  got  wise  to  them  last  night.  They're  goin'  to 
have  a  meetin'  to-night  and  we  thought  we'd  come  up 
and  ask  you  if  it  wouldn't  be  a  good  plan  to  bust  in 
on  them,  and  put  the  love  of  the  Lord  into  them, 
just  for  luck." 

"Not  on  your  life,"  said  Dowd.  "Lay  off  on  that. 
No  rough  stuff  goes.  Leave  'em  to  me." 

I  went  out  followed  by  Dowd's  "See  you  Friday 
night." 

"Steve  is  right,"  I  thought.     "He's  smart  and  he's 


a  mixer." 


CHAPTER  VII 

I  MEET  HUNKINS 

YQU  certainly  can  get  action    in  politics  after 
you  get  started,  and  the  chap  was  right  who 
said  that  it  makes  strange  bedfellows.     Not 
that  I  am  sleeping  with  any  unusual  citizen 
as  yet,  but  that  I  can  if  I  want  to.     Of  course,  I  am 
not  really  in  politics  but,  apparently,  you  don't  have  to 
be  really  in,  in  certain  cases,  to  be  remarked. 

I  don't  see  what  there  is  so  bizarre  about  a  man 
like  myself  making  a  straight  statement  about  there 
being  a  chance  to  do  something  in  this  city  in  the 
way  of  reform;  but  from  the  commotion  what  I  did 
say  has  made  in  our  set  you'd  think  I  painted  myself 
pea  green  and  made  a  parade  down  Main  Street  clad 
in  no  other  raiment  with  a  gladiolus  behind  my  ear. 
Fred  Daskin,  and  Jimmie  Chambers,  and  Sam  Aber- 
nathy  spread  the  news,  and  for  the  next  three  or  four 
days  I  was  joshed  all  over  the  place,  referred  to  as 
a  rising  young  reformer,  and  so  on,  while  the  Elder 
Brethren  at  the  club  held  an  inquest  over  me  and 
formally  decried  and  viewed  with  grave  alarm  my  "so- 
cialistic" tendencies.  Dad  is  interested.  He  questioned 
me  rather  closely  once  or  twice,  and  intimated,  at  the 
end  of  each  session,  that  my  job  is  waiting  for  me  at 
the  pump  works. 

73 


74  HUNKINS 

They  backed  me  into  a  corner  at  the  Country  Club 
one  night,  and  I  told  a  lot  of  them  all  about  them- 
selves. I  don't  remember  all  I  said,  but  it  was  to  the 
broad,  general  effect  that  they  are  civic  slackers;  and 
it  made  them  pretty  sore.  They  roasted  me,  joshed 
me,  burlesqued  me  and  cussed  me.  The  consensus  of 
opinion,  as  I  gather  it,  is  that  I  am  a  sort  of  congenital 
idiot  with  no  appreciation  of  the  proper  and  conven- 
tional duties  and  privileges  and  obligations  of  my  sta- 
tion, and,  especially,  that  I  do  not  know  when  I  am 
well  off.  Going  into  politics,  to  those  folks,  seems 
to  be  synonymous  with  going  slumming  and  never  com- 
ing back.  It  appears,  if  I  persist,  that  I  shall  commit 
the  enormous  crime  of  associating  with  crass  and  low- 
flung  persons  who  do  not  know  what  a  niblick  is,  and 
have  no  appreciation  of  the  proper  moment  at  which 
to  double  no  trumps,  to  say  nothing  of  owning  not  a 
single  polo  pony,  nor  anything  with  more  class  than  a 
flivver  car.  That's  it — class! 

I've  thought  that  crowd  over,  and  tabbed  them  up. 
You'd  think,  to  hear  their  exclamations  of  wonder 
and  disgust,  that  their  forebears  certainly  made  their 
marks  as  signatories  to  the  Magna  Charta ;  and  I  know 
that  the  fathers  of  most  of  them,  and  the  grandfathers 
of  all  of  them,  began  so  close  to  the  common  earth 
that  the  smell  of  the  soil  hung  to  them  for  years.  They 
didn't  budge  me  an  inch.  Neither  did  Dad,  although 
I  think,  after  our  conversations,  that  Dad  isn't  talking 
to  stop  me  but  is  talking  to  find  out  if  I  really  have  an 
idea  and  a  determination.  However,  that's  enough  of 
that  phase  of  my  difficulties.  It's  neither  so  interest- 
ing nor  so  important  as  something  else  that  happened. 


I  MEET  HUNKINS  75 

I  talked  to  Dowd  on  Friday  morning,  and  wrangled 
with  my  social  equals  until  the  following  Tuesday.  By 
that  time  somebody  had  introduced  a  new  dance,  direct 
from  one  of  the  leading  cabarets  of  Broadway,  and 
they  forgot  my  plan  to  stray  away  from  their  upper 
and  exclusive  circle  in  the  rush  to  acquire  the  wiggles 
and  wriggles  of  that  jazzed  and  jerky  novelty. 

On  Wednesday  morning  I  had  a  letter  that  made  me 
blink.  It  was  a  short  letter  written  in  a  clerkly  sort 
of  a  hand,  on  paper  of  the  best  quality.  It  was  dated 
Tuesday  and  read: 

"I  shn.ll  be  glad  if  you  can  find  it  convenient  to  call 
at  my  house,  76  Martin  Street,  to-morrow,  Wednes- 
day, evening  at  eight  o'clock,  to  discuss  a  personal 
and  political  matter.  If  you  cannot  come  please  call 
me  by  'phone  to-morrow  morning,  Main  66.  If  I  do 
not  hear  from  you  in  that  manner  I  shall  expect  you." 

It  was  signed :  "Very  truly  yours,  William  Hunkins." 

Hunkins !  The  boss !  What  did  he  want  with  me  ? 
I  read  the  letter  half  a  dozen  times,  trying  to  get 
from  it  more  than  the  bald  invitation  to  come  and 
discuss  "a  personal  and  political  matter."  It  was  be- 
yond me.  My  first  impulse  was  to  go  to  the  telephone 
and  tell  him  that  I  could  have  no  dealings  with  a  man 
like  him.  I  didn't.  What  do  I  know  about  Hunkins? 
Nothing  but  what  I  have  heard.  I  know  him  by  sight, 
and  that  is  all,  except  for  report  and  rumor.  Still,  he 
who  touches  pitch,  and  so  forth.  Pshaw!  It  will  be 
a  good  opportunity  to  study  him.  Besides,  and  this  is 
the  truth  of  it,  I  am  so  curious  to  find  out  what  it  is 
about  that  it  seems  a  century  until  eight  o'clock. 

Martin  Street  is  a  cross  street  in  the  Fourth  Ward, 


76  HUNKINS 

which  is  a  middle-class  section  of  the  city,  where  small 
business  men  and  young  married  people  live.  Number 
76  is  a  three-storied  brick  house,  not  differing  in  any 
detail  from  its  neighbors,  constructed  in  a  long  row  of 
similars.  Mostly,  the  houses  in  our  city  have  bits  of 
ground  about  them,  but  an  architect  and  a  builder  from 
Baltimore  got  loose  up  in  the  Fourth  Ward  one  time, 
and  perpetrated  these  ugly  rows.  I  rang  the  door  bell 
of  Number  76  at  eight  o'clock. 

A  maid  let  me  in,  informing  me :  "Mr.  Hunkins  will 
be  right  down." 

The  room  to  which  she  led  me  was  simply  furnished, 
with  the  wall  space  largely  filled  by  book-shelves.  I 
looked  at  the  books,  an  accumulation  of  those  "sets" 
that  are  found  in  so  many  houses.  There  was  an  im- 
posing row  of  Ruskin,  and  another  of  Balzac.  The 
World's  Best  Literature  bloomed  redly  along  two 
shelves.  There  were  the  Complete  Poetical  Works  of 
Milton,  Shakespeare  in  ten  volumes,  Darwin,  Spencer, 
Scott,  Dickens,  the  Great  Orations  of  the  World, 
Tennyson,  Longfellow,  Whittier,  the  World's  Reposi- 
tory of  Knowledge  in  eighteen  volumes,  and  half  a 
dozen  other  sets  of  the  World's  greatest  this  and  the 
World's  greatest  that.  Keats,  Shelley,  Chaucer, 
Wordsworth,  in  reds,  blues  and  greens,  stood  stiffly  in 
cultured  rows,  flanked  by  Emerson,  Thoreau,  Ma- 
cauley,  Carlyle,  Huxley,  Hawthorne,  Mill,  Kant,  Scho- 
penhauer, Adam  Smith,  Bacon,  Motley,  Morris — sets 
— sets — sets.  Cooper,  Thackeray,  George  Eliot — a 
vari-colored  riot  of  the  stuff  that  can  be  bought  by 
tearing  off  this  coupon  and  remitting  one  dollar,  with 
the  privilege  of  examination  and  return,  within  five 


I  MEET  HUNKINS  77 

days,  if  not  perfectly  satisfactory  and  as  represented 
in  the  advertisement. 

"How  are  you,  Captain?" 

I  turned  from  my  scrutiny  of  the  books,  and  faced 
Hunkins — a  man  of  about  five  feet  ten,  and  weighing 
not  more  than  a  hundred  and  sixty  pounds,  smooth- 
shaven,  with  plenty  of  black  hair,  a  longish  upper  lip, 
a  good  supply  of  chin,  and  black  eyes  with  fun  in 
them;  a  largish  mouth,  and  lips  with  a  taking  smile 
to  them;  dressed  in  a  blue  serge  suit  and  wearing  a 
soft  blue  shirt  and  a  soft  white  collar;  blue  tie  that 
matched  the  serge,  blue  socks  that  also  matched,  and 
low  cut  shoes  highly  polished;  no  jewelry;  clothes 
well  cut  and  tailored  and  without  a  wrinkle ;  well  turned 
out,  intelligent  of  appearance,  less  of  the  cartoonish 
aspect  of  a  political  boss  about  him  than  there  is  about 
Bishop  Sludgers. 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Hunkins.  I  was  looking  at 
your  books." 

"Oh,  don't  bother  with  that  stuff.  Come  in  here 
where  my  real  books  are." 

He  motioned  to  a  door,  and  we  entered  a  smaller 
room,  in  which  there  was  a  desk,  a  desk  chair,  and  one 
other  chair,  a  big  book-case,  a  picture  of  Colonel 
Roosevelt.  That  was  all. 

"Knew  a  man  once,"  he  said,  "who  was  a  stevedore 
and  got  rich.  His  wife  moved  him  away  from  the 
docks  and  uptown  into  a  big  house  so  she  could  take 
her  rightful  place  in  society.  They  gave  a  carte  blanche 
order  to  the  book  seller  to  fix  them  up  a  library,  and 
he  put  in  about  four  kilometers  of  the  same  sort  of 
stuff  as  that  out  there.  Poor  chap.  His  wife  made 


78  HUNKINS 

him  try  to  live  up  to  those  books,  and  he  died  of  humili- 
ation one  day  when  she  caught  him  reading  'The  Peep 
O'  Day  Boys'  in  the  butler's  pantry. 

"That  stuff  out  there  came  with  the  house  when  I 
rented  it.  I  often  wonder  what  those  old  chaps  would 
think,  I  mean  those  writers  of  what  they  call  the 
classics,  if  they  could  have  a  look  now  and  see  that  the 
posterity  they  thought  they  were  writing  for  buys  them 
by  the  yard  if  the  bindings  match  with  the  draperies, 
and  never  look  into  them.  These  are  my  real  books." 

I  took  a  look.  He  had  some  of  Conrad,  Shaw, 
Wells,  Hewlett,  Galsworthy,  one  or  two  of  Bennett, 
Tarkington,  O.  Henry,  Dunsany,  Synge,  James 
Stephens,  two  of  Locke's,  all  of  David  Graham  Phil- 
lips's  political  novels,  Cobb's  "Back  Home,"  Harry 
Leon  Wilson's  "Ruggles,"  and  several  shelves  of  the 
best  examples  of  other  modern  American  and  English 
authors — one  or  two  from  each ;  some  travel,  many  es- 
says, both  critical  and  literary,  and  a  lot  of  biography; 
a  good  many  Russians,  and  a  shelf  of  the  modern 
Frenchmen.  Lying  on  the  top  of  his  desk  were  the  lat- 
est Mencken,  the  latest  Cabell,  a  collection  of  Strun- 
sky's  satires,  and  two  volumes  on  after-the-war  prob- 
lems. 

"My  theory  about  books  is  that  a  man  is  foolish 
to  waste  his  time  plugging  through  all  any  author 
wrote.  I  get  the  best,  to  my  thinking,  each  author  has 
done,  and  form  my  ideas  of  him  from  that.  Who,  in 
the  name  of  Heaven,  has  time  to  grind  through  all  of 
those  voluminous  gentlemen?  The  best  of  each  will 
tell  you  all  you  want  to  know  about  them,  and  their 


I  MEET  HUNKINS  79 

styles  and  ideas,  and  give  you  a  chance  to  cover  the 
field." 

His  voice  was  pleasant  and  his  manner  that  of  a 
well-read,  well-bred  person  rather  than  the  sublimated 
ward-heeler  I  thought  him  to  be.  It  all  surprised  and 
puzzled  me.  I  kept  thinking:  "This  isn't  the  sort  of 
a  Hunkins  I  expected  to  find.  Not  at  all.  He's  not 
only  literate,  but  he's  intelligent.  And  this  place 
doesn't  square  with  my  ideas  of  the  home  of  a  boss. 
What  about  those  stories  I  have  always  heard  of  the 
grafting  of  his  gang?" 

That  thought  obsessed  me.  I  couldn't  get  away 
from  it.  I  had  pictured  him  surrounded  by  such  ex- 
pensive junk  in  the  way  of  furniture  and  fittings  as 
should  be  found  in  the  home  of  a  grafter,  according 
to  my  conceptions  of  the  abiding  places  of  such,  and 
here  was  Hunkins,  our  reputed  political  pirate,  living 
as  plainly  as  a  mechanic,  except  for  the  books.  It  was 
a  shock  to  my  pre-conceptions,  and  before  I  realized 
what  I  was  saying  I  blurted:  "Why,  Mr.  Hunkins,  you 
live  very  modestly." 

Tactful  remark,  wasn't  it;  pleasant  manner  of  open- 
ing the  conversation?  I  rather  expected  him  to  take 
a  chair  and  hit  me,  but  he  didn't.  Instead,  his  eyes 
twinkled,  and  he  smiled  a  sort  of  deprecatory  smile. 

"Certainly,  I  spend  all  the  money  I  can  get  in  de- 
bauching the  ballot,  you  know,  not  on  myself.  Any 
of  your  friends  will  tell  you  that." 

I  couldn't  make  out  whether  he  was  in  earnest,  or 
having  fun  with  me,  but  after  having  put  my  foot  in 
it,  it  was  my  part  to  pull  it  out  as  best  I  could,  and 
I  made  a  polite  disclaimer:  "Oh  you  don't  mean  that." 


80  HUNKINS 

"Don't  I?"  he  laughed.  "Well,  it's  of  no  conse- 
quence. Sit  down,  please." 

He  pointed  to  the  one  chair  that  stood  by  his  desk. 
"All  my  house  is  not  so  sparsely  furnished  as  this 
room,"  he  said.  "There  is  method  in  this,  not 
economy.  I  conduct  my  trifling  personal  and  party 
affairs  here,  and  am  visited  by  a  somewhat  numerous 
clientele.  If  I  had  ten  chairs  I  would  have  ten  of 
them  here  at  the  same  time,  and  if  I  had  two  I  would 
have  two.  So  I  only  have  one,  and  there  is  always 
some  one  waiting  to  get  into  it  when  it  is  occupied  by 
another.  That  tends  to  dispatch,  and  short  stories." 

He  laughed  again — an  attractive  sort  of  a  scoun- 
drel, this  Bill  Hunkins! 

"However,  that's  not  what  I  asked  you  to  call  here 
for,  and  I'm  much  obliged  to  you  for  coming.  I 
thought  that  the  better  way  for  various  reasons.  I 
understand  you  think  of  going  into  politics." 

"How  did  you  hear  that?" 

"Oh,  I  hear  almost  everything  of  a  political  nature 
that  happens,  or  is  talked  about  in  this  city,  one  way 
or  another.  Is  it  true?" 

"I  don't  know  whether  it  is,  or  not.  I  have  talked 
about  it  some,  but  haven't  done  anything  yet  except 
talk." 

"Some  of  that  talk  was  reported  to  me.  As  I  gather 
it  you  are  of  the  idea  that  there  is  grave  necessity  for 
cleaning  out  and  dispersing,  or  jailing,  the  thieves, 
robbers,  boodlers  and  reprobates  who  now  have  con- 
trol of  the  city  government,  including  myself." 

He  spoke  gravely,  but  his  eyes  were  twinkling. 

"Something  of  that  sort." 


I  MEET  HUNKINS  81 

I  was  as  serious  as  he  seemed  to  be  and  my  eyes 
did  not  twinkle.  He  certainly  had  me  thinking  hard, 

"My  information  was  correct  then.  Would  you  care 
to  take  me  far  enough  into  your  confidence  to  outline 
to  me  how  you  intend  to  bring  about  this  moral  re- 
generation of  our  public  service?" 

"Why  should  I?" 

"There's  no  particular  reason.  I  just  thought  I'd 
ask  you.  A  pet  theory  of  mine  is  that  you  never  can 
tell  what  the  answer  will  be  until  you  ask  the  question. 
Sometimes  people  are  communicative;  sometimes  they 
are  not.  It's  all  a  part  of  the  game." 

"What  game?"   ' 

"The  greatest  game  in  the  world — politics." 

Here  was  an  opening.  Hunkins  was  looking  at  me 
with  his  eyes  half  closed,  studiously,  as  if  he  was 
classifying  me. 

"If  you  think  politics  is  the  greatest  game  in  the 
world,"  I  said,  "why  do  you  play  it  the  way  you  do?" 

I  astonished  myself.  "That's  a  neat  question,"  I 
thought. 

"For  that  very  reason.  Have  a  smoke."  He 
offered  me  an  excellent  cigarette,  lighted  one  himself, 
and  went  on: 

"However,  if  it  shall  be  my  good  fortune  to  get 
better  acquainted  with  you,  as  I  hope  to,  we'll  discuss 
that  phase  of  it  at  length  some  time.  Just  now,  we'll 
leave  the  ethical  side  of  it  apart  and  get  down  to  prac- 
ticalities. There  is  a  vacancy  in  the  Board  of  Alder- 
men from  the  Ward  you  live  in." 

"So  I  understand,"  and  I  began  to  feel  myself  in- 


82  HUNKINS 

flating.  Bill  Hunkins,  the  boss,  discussing  politics  with 
me!  But  why?  It  was  beyond  me. 

"For  which  there  is  to  be  a  special  election  three 
weeks  from  next  Tuesday." 

"Yes." 

He  sat  up.  His  eyes  were  wide  open  now  and  looked 
straight  into  mine. 

"How  would  you  like  to  be  our  candidate?" 

"Me?" 

I  never  was  so  astonished  in  my  life.  And  I  began 
to  deflate  rapidly. 

"Certainly.  I  can  assure  you  that  you  will  be  nomi- 
nated and  elected  if  you  will  run.  What  do  you  think 
of  it?" 

At  first,  I  couldn't  think.  My  head  was  in  a  whirl. 
Then  I  began  to  get  a  glimmer  of  coherence.  "Steady, 
old  chap,"  I  thought.  "He's  trying  to  tie  you  up  with 
him  so  you  can't  do  him  any  harm.  It's  a  bribe  and 
not  much  of  a  bribe  at  that." 

"What  do  you  think  of  it?" 

"I  don't  know  what  to  think  of  it.  I  never  had  any 
idea  of  going  on  the  Board  of  Aldermen.  I  can't 
decide  off  hand." 

"Well,  consider  it  for  a  couple  of  days.  The  selec- 
tion won't  be  made  until  Saturday.  And  let  me  make 
this  suggestion:  If  you  really  want  to  go  into  politics 
this  is  a  good  chance.  We  all  have  to  creep  before  we 
can  walk,  you  know,  and  I  can  guarantee  that  as  a 
member  of  that  board  you'll  learn  more  about  politics 
in  a  year  than  you  will  as  an  amateur  uplifter  outside 
in  six.  Think  it  over  and  let  me  know  Saturday, 
morning." 


I  MEET  HUNKINS  83 

I  was  in  a  daze,  trying  to  figure  out  just  what  it 
meant.  Then  I  recalled  what  he  said  about  asking 
questions,  so  I  fired  three  at  him : 

"What's  the  object  of  this,  Mr.  Hunkins?  What's 
back  of  this  offer  to  me,  a  man  you  never  met  before 
and  know  little  of?  What's  it  all  about?" 

"Why,  it's  all  about  the  Board  of  Aldermen,  and 
politics,  and  your  going  into  it,  and  various  other  co- 
related  things  that  we  haven't  time  to  discuss  to-night. 
I'll  expect  to  hear  from  you  Saturday,  one  way  or  the 
other." 

He  rose.  We  shook  hands,  and  I  went  out,  with  my 
brain  doing  fifteen  loop-the-loops  a  second.  Me  I  An 
Alderman  I  By  the  grace  of  Bill  Hunkins  1  Politics 
certainly  moves  in  a  mysterious  way  its  wonders  to 
perform. 


ME — AN  ALDERMAN! 

I  STAYED  awake  a  long  time  trying  to  puzzle  it 
out.  "What  is  the  psychology  of  it?"  I  asked 
myself.  I  am  not  much  of  a  psychologist.  Un- 
til I  went  in  the  Army  I  hadn't  thought  of  the 
carking  stuff  since  I  left  college,  and  I  only  thought 
about  it  enough  there  to  get  a  "Fair"  in  the  examina- 
tion. In  the  Army  I  encountered  busy  flocks  of  psy- 
chologists, who  were  asking  doughboys  to  work  out 
problems  like  this:  "If  5  x  2  is  37  put  a  cross  in  the 
square  that  is  superimposed  on  the  triangle  that  sur- 
rounds the  smaller  of  sixteen  circles,  but  if  2  x  5  is  not 
37  write  another  incorrect  answer  for  the  problem 
under  the  longer  of  these  three  words :  black — white — > 
green;  and  then  state  instantly  whether  the  real  rea- 
son why  the  chicken  crosses  the  road  is  to  get  on  the 
other  side  or  because  the  road  cannot  cross  the  chicken, 
and  verify  your  statement  by  spelling  a  word  that  con- 
tains the  first  letter  of  your  last  name  and  the  last  let- 
ter of  your  first  name,  and  contains  three  labials  and 
four  dentals,  which  must  not  rhyme  with  mush,  slush 
or  flush." 

That  was  psychology,  they  told  us,  and  they  made 
ratings  of  the  soldiers  on  that  basis,  determining,  to 
their  own  card-indexed  satisfaction,  whether  the  boys 

84 


ME— AN  ALDERMAN  I  85 

should  be  kept  continuously  on  kitchen  police  or  sent 
to  join  the  general  staff.  They  were  earnest  about  it, 
but  they  had  only  put  about  half  of  us  through  these 
important  tests  when  the  war  quit  on  them,  thus  leav- 
ing posterity  without  the  important  knowledge  as  to 
whether  a  couple  of  million  Jim  Smiths  and  Charley 
Browns  used  fifty  seconds,  or  five,  in  writing  piffle  on 
the  dotted  line  if  four  plus  two  is  nine,  and  the  sun 
rises  in  the  West,  or  putting  six  crosses  over  the  pret- 
tiest letter  in  the  alphabet  provided  the  psychologists 
can  hand  Secretary  Baker  a  stunt  like  this  and  get 
away  with  it. 

That  interested  me  in  psychology.  There  must  be 
something  in  it.  To  be  sure,  the  man  in  my  company 
who  took  half  an  hour  to  figure  out  whether  nine  minus 
nine  is  zero  when  it  is  high  tide  on  the  coast  of  "Labra- 
dor, or  eighteen  at  the  full  of  the  moon  in  Kokomo, 
got  three  citations  and  two  medals  for  good  work  in 
killing  Huns  over  in  the  Argonne,  and  brought  in  six 
prisoners  one  night  single  handed  because  when  he 
ran  onto  them  as  he  was  alone  he  made  them  think 
he  had  a  squad  of  companions  just  around  the  corner, 
but  the  tests  showed  him  to  be  slow-witted  and  the 
veriest  dub  of  a  soldier.  The  psychologists  said  it 
only  proved  abnormality,  or  atavism,  or  an  absonant 
quality,  or  something  like  that.  I  didn't  quite  get  their 
explanation,  but  I  am  strong  for  psychology.  It  did 
give  a  lot  of  professors  a  good,  safe  method  of  serv- 
ing their  country  in  the  great  crisis. 

"What  is  the  psychology  of  Bill  Hunkins'  amazing 
proposition  to  me?"  I  approached  that  problem  from 
a  dozen  different  angles,  and  found  no  solution.  As 


86  HUNKINS 

I  was  in  the  midst  of  an  elaborate  hypothetical  thesis 
I  went  to  sleep,  and  next  morning  it  occurred  to  me 
to  talk  the  matter  over  with  somebody  who  knows 
more  about  Hunkins  than  I  do.  Three  persons  pre- 
sented themselves  to  me:  Dad,  Dowd  and  Steve  Fox. 
I  canvassed  them  thus:  "If  I  go  to  Dad  he'll  laugh  at 
me  and  tell  me  to  forget  it.  I  don't  know  Dowd  well 
enough  yet.  Steve  Fox  is  the  man."  I  caught  him  at 
the  office  at  two  o'clock  that  afternoon. 

"Steve,"  I  said,  "I've  got  a  job." 

"Politics  or  honest  toil?" 

"Politics." 

"As  soon  as  this?  You're  a  pronto  person.  What 
is  it?" 

"Alderman." 

"Alderman?    What  sort  of  an  alderman?" 

"Regular,  honest-to-Mike  alderman,  from  the  Sec- 
ond Ward.  Bill  Hunkins  offered  it  to  me  last  night," 

Steve  looked  hard  at  me.  I  know  Steve  so  well  that 
his  mental  processes  are  familiar  to  me.  He  was  de- 
bating this  question:  Is  he  drunk,  or  crazy? 

"Neither  one,"  I  said. 

"Neither  one?    What  the  devil " 

"I'm  not  drunk,  and  I'm  not  crazy.     It's  a  fact." 

When  Steve  is  perplexed  he  chews  a  wad  of  paper. 
He  tore  a  piece  from  the  margin  of  a  newspaper,  and 
chewed  it  vigorously. 

"Let  me  get  this  straight.  Bill  Hunkins  offered  to 
make  you  Alderman  from  the  Second  Ward?" 

"Yes." 

"Where?" 

"At  his  house." 


ME— AN  ALDERMAN!  87 

"How  did  you  get  there?" 

"He  wrote  to  me  and  asked  me  to  come." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"Nothing  much.  He's  heard  that  I  am  talking  of 
getting  into  politics,  and  he  says  I  can  learn  more  in 
the  board  in  a  year  than  anywhere  else  in  six." 

"That's  right.    What  else?" 

"Nothing.  He  says  he'll  guarantee  nomination  and 
election  if  I'll  accept,  and  wants  an  answer  by  Sat- 
urday." 

"Didn't  he  give  you  any  reason?" 

"Nope;  only  that." 

Steve  chewed  his  paper,  and  looked  out  of  the  win- 
dow. "Well,  I'll  be  gol-darned!"  he  said,  finally.  I 
waited  for  further  illumination.  Steve  comes  to  bat 
regularly,  but  sometimes  he  is  a  bit  slow  in  leaving 
the  bench.  When  he  is  chewing  paper  in  his  mouth, 
he  is  chewing  things  over  in  his  mind  in  the  same  vig- 
orous fashion.  Presently,  he  began: 

"Bill  Hunkins  never  does  anything  without  a  reason. 
He  doesn't  work  on  impulse.  So,  as  I  look  at  it,  there 
are  only  two  reasons  for  this  thing.  The  first  is  be- 
cause he  thinks  that,  perhaps,  you  may  get  somewhere 
in  this  game  you  are  talking  about,  with  your  father's 
money,  and  so  on,  and  wants  to  tie  you  up.  The  sec- 
ond is  that  he  needs  a  candidate  from  that  ward  who 
will  6e  acceptable  to  the  people  who  live  there,  and 
he  has  picked  you  because  he  has  heard  that  you  have 
political  ideas,  and  may  take  it,  not  figuring  that  you 
will  amount  to  anything  in  the  way  of  opposition,  at 
all,  but  planning  on  using  you  because  you  are  respec- 
table and  have  a  good  family  name. 


88  HUNKINS 

"I  think  the  first  reason  is  the  real  one,  because  there 
are  plenty  of  others  in  the  Second  Ward  he  might  pick 
up  if  respectability  is  all  he  is  looking  for.  It  isn't  that. 
He  has  some  returned-soldier  stuff  in  his  mind,  and  he 
knows  how  far  the  Talbot  name  goes  in  this  city,  and 
has  decided  to  get  you  into  his  camp  at  once.  This 
alderman  thing  is  all  he  has  for  bait  at  present,  so  he's 
dangled  that  in  front  of  your  eyes.  Did  he  say;  any- 
thing about  future  advancement?" 

"No." 

"Just  made  the  bald  proposal?" 

"Yes,  but  he  did  say  there  are  various  reasons  he 
has  that  can  be  talked  over  later." 

"Just  so.  He's  too  foxy  to  make  promises  when  he 
doesn't  need  to,  for  he  has  a  strong  habit  of  keeping 
his  word.  It  will  be  time  enough  to  talk  about  the 
future  after  you  have  fallen  for  this  first  advance;  or 
maybe  it  never  will  be  time — provided  you  do  fall  for 


it." 


"Who  said  anything  about  falling  for  it?" 
"I  did.    Come  on  up  and  see  Tommie  Dowd." 
Dowd  was  in  his  office  in  the  Occidental  Building, 
talking  to  some  young  men  in  civilian  clothes  who  were 
returned  soldiers.     Their  clothes  were  too  new,  their 
bearings  too  erect,  and  their  colors  too  brown  to  allow 
them  to  be  anything  else.    Presently,  the  soldiers  went 
out. 

"This  is  a  double  and  distinguished  honor,"  Dowd 
said,  "a  great  journalist,  and  a  rising  young  politician 
call  at  my  humble  quarters.  It  must  be  something  im- 
portant." 


ME— AN  ALDERMAN!  89 

"Not  so  important  as  it  is  interesting,"  Steve  replied, 
"provided  you  will  chop  the  kidding,  and  listen.'* 

"Go  ahead." 

Steve  told  the  story  of  my  visit  to  Hunkins  and  what 
Hunkins  offered  to  me  in  rapid  fire  fashion. 

"What  do  you  make  out  of  that?"  he  asked,  as  he 
finished. 

Dowd  asked  me  a  few  questions,  exactly  like  those 
Steve  had  asked  me,  and  then  said :  "It's  simple  enough. 
Our  friend  Hunkins  is  planning  to  throw  a  monkey- 
wrench  into  our  machinery." 

"But  George  hasn't  anything  to  do  with  your  ma- 
chinery— yet." 

"I  know  it.  However,  in  my  opinion  Hunkins  is 
fooled,  to  some  extent,  by  the  stories  brought  in  by  his 
scouts.  He's  human,  you  know,  and  must  depend  on 
what  his  men  tell  him,  to  a  large  extent,  subject  to  the 
clarifying  processes  of  his  own  mind  and  experience. 
The  most  superserviceable  person  in  the  world  is  a  po- 
litical scout,  next  to  a  private  detective.  Both  live,  not 
by  what  they  find  out,  but  by  what  they  say  they  find  out. 
They  have  to  get  information  to  justify  their  employ- 
ment, and  if  they  get  none,  they  make  some,  or  if  they 
get  little  they  increase  it  in  detail  and  importance.  My 
judgment  is  that  Hunkins  thinks  Talbot  is  further  along 
than  he  is,  and  plans  to  tie  him  up,  or,  at  least,  to  make 
a  play  at  tying  him  up,  to  his  end  of  it." 

"Mine,  too,"  said  Steve. 

"Poor  bait,"  I  commented. 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  Dowd  objected.  "An 
alderman  is  a  rather  important  cog  in  the  wheel  of  city 
government.  The  office  is  important  even  if  the  men 


90  HUNKINS 

who  fill  it  are  not.  What  is  your  idea — to  take  it,  or 
refuse  it?" 

"Refuse  it." 

"Don't  be  hasty.  Let's  think  this  over  a  little.  You 
came  to  me  the  other  day  with  an  idea  about  utilizing 
the  returned  soldiers  for  political  purposes,  both  for 
the  good  of  the  city  and  for  their  own  good.  I  told 
you  some  of  us  are  working  along  those  lines,  and  asked 
you  to  come  to  our  next  meeting,  which  is  to-morrow 
night.  What  have  you  decided  about  that?  Are  you 
coming?" 

"Yes." 

"And  if  we  can  show  you  any  practicality  of  oper- 
ation, and  signs  of  progress  are  you  inclined  to  join 
with  us?" 

"Yes;  if  you'll  let  me." 

"Oh,  we'll  let  you.  We  need  all  the  help  we  can 
get.  Now,  then,  assuming  that  we  can  give  you  tan- 
gible evidence  of  work  already  accomplished,  and  ex- 
pectations that  look  good,  you  will  work  with  us.  I  al- 
ready set  you  down  as  a  partner  in  the  enterprise  be- 
cause Steve,  here,  tells  me  you  are  all  right,  because  I 
know  your  father,  because  you  have  some  ideas  in  con- 
sonance with  mine,  and  because,  as  I  say,  we  need  all 
the  help  we  can  get.  You're  in." 

"Good." 

"That  being  the  case,  shall  I  tell  you  what  I  think 
you'd  better  do?' 

"I  wish  you  would." 

"Well,  I'd  take  him  up." 

Steve  whistled.    "Why?"  he  asked. 

"For  several  reasons.     The  first  is  that  the  experi- 


ME— AN  ALDERMAN1  91 

ence  will  be  of  value  to  Talbot.  The  second  is  because 
the  position,  and  the  news  of  it  spread  around  will 
identify  him  with  politics,  and  we  need  a  man  or  two 
thus  identified.  The  third  is  because  both  his  personal 
history,  and  his  name,  will  give  him  respect  outside 
of  the  joshing  of  his  social  playmates,  who  do  not1 
count — respect  of  the  average  citizens,  I  mean.  The 
fourth  is  because  the  newspapers  will  have  to  take  it 
with  some  seriousness  because  of  the  Talbot  name,  as 
an  evidence  of  an  attempt  to  have  better  politics,  unless 
Steve,  here,  gets  facetious  about  it.  The  fifth  is  be- 
cause there  isn't  a  chance  for  a  Pendergrast  man  up 
there,  and  there  will  be  no  campaign  that  will  start 
anything.  The  sixth  is  because,  in  that  position,  Talbot 
can  be  of  great  value  to  us  in  what  we  shall  try  to  do." 

"Hold  on !"  I  cried.  "You  don't  think  I'd  take  this 
job  and  double  cross  Hunkins,  do  you?" 

"I  do  not,  and  I  wouldn't  advise  you  to  take  it  if  I 
did,  or  have  any  use  for  you  whatsoever.  What  I  mean 
is  this :  If  Hunkins  is  sincere,  or  playing  a  deeper  game 
than  is  apparent  on  the  surface  of  this,  he  won't  de- 
mand any  obligation  from  you.  He  doesn't  need  your 
vote  in  the  board.  He's  got  that  sewed  up  so  tight  with 
Tom  Pendergrast's  gang  that  anything  you  might  try 
to  do  will  be  overwhelmed.  If  he  is  sincere,  as  I  say, 
he  won't  ask  any  obligation.  All  right;  then  you  can 
keep  your  eyes  and  ears  open,  and  be  of  use  to  us,  and 
yourself.  If  he  is  playing  a  deeper  game  than  is  appar- 
ent, we  want  to  know  that  too,  and  the  easiest  way  we 
can  find  that  out  is  for  you  to  accept,  provided  you  are 
earnest  and  smart  enough  to  play  our  game.  Possibly 
you  are.  Steve  says  so.  I'll  take  a  chance." 


92  HUNKINS 

"Direct  spoken  citizen,  this,"  I  thought,  and  was 
about  to  give  an  opinion  when  Dowd  continued: 

"I  had  no  idea  Brother  Bill  would  weigh  in  this 
way,  but  he's  a  clever  gentleman — a  clever  gentleman. 
If  it  is  part  of  a  big  game,  and  not  an  ordinary  politi- 
cal maneuver  to  get  a  respectable  candidate,  he'll  not 
obligate  you,  at  this  time,  either,  for  that  would  tip 
his  hand.  Feel  like  taking  a  whirl  at  it?" 

"I  don't  know.  Sometimes  I  do,  and  then  I  don't. 
There  are  a  lot  of  angles  to  it  that  I  haven't  figured 
out  yet." 

"Oh,  well,  you've  got  until  Saturday  to  decide.  Per- 
haps I  can  get  a  better  line  on  it  for  you  before  then. 
I'll  try.  Meantime,  shall  I  see  you  to-morrow  night?" 

"Yes.     I'm  coming." 

Steve  and  I  walked  down  the  street  together.  "No 
hurry,"  said  Steve.  "Tommie  will  dig  up  the  inside 
of  it  if  anybody  knows  it  besides  Hunkins.  He's  got 
a  grapevine  into  that  outfit." 

I  thought  of  talking  to  Dad  about  it  that  night,  but 
didn't.  Next  morning,  at  breakfast,  I  said,  casually 
as  I  could,  although  my  heart  was  beating  a  little  faster: 
"Dad,  what  would  you  think  if  I  told  you  that  I  may 
run  for  that  vacancy  from  our  ward  in  the  Board  of 
Aldermen?" 

Dad  stopped  buttering  his  cakes,  and  looked  at  me 
interestedly. 

"I'd  think  of  sending  you  to  a  sanitarium,"  but  he 
smiled  when  he  said  it. 


CHAPTER  IX 

STEVE  FOX  PRINTS  IT 

I    DO  not  see  the  News  until  after  Dad  gets  away. 
He  had  a  row  with  the  editor  over  a  grade 
crossing  at  the  pump  works,  and  won't  allow  the 
paper  in  the  house  or  at  the  office.    I  send  for  it 
after  breakfast.     The  man  brought  a   copy  in  and 
handed  it  to  me,  and  an  item  jumped  from  the  top  of 
the  second  column  on  the  first  page  and  hit  me  a  thun- 
dering whack.     My  eyes  blinked,  my  face  flamed,  and 
my  heart  beat  a  tattoo  as  I  read: 


Son  of  Wealthy  Manufacturer 
Mentioned  for  Alderman 


I  didn't  read  what  followed.  That  was  enough. 
Steve  Fox,  my  friend,  just  to  get  a  measly  little  piece  of 
news  in  his  paper,  had  betrayed  me  I  It  was  incompre- 
hensible. It  was  outrageous.  It  was  damnable.  It 
was  everything  else  putrid  and  perfidious  I  could  think 
of.  I  raged  up  and  down  the  room. 

"Damn  Steve  Fox!"  I  shouted,  "and  damn  every- 

93 


94  HUNKINS 

thing  and  everybody  else  more  than  an  inch  high !  One 
of  my  best  friends  spills  the  beans  for  me  this  way. 
The  man  I  trusted.  I'll  go  down  and  punch  him  in 
the  jaw.  It's  a  lie.  I  haven't  decided  to  run  for  Al- 
derman. Probably  I  won't  run,  and  he's  made  a  laugh- 
ing stock  of  me,  and  put  me  in  foolish  with  everybody 
I  know.  I  won't  run  for  Alderman!  I'll  quit  the 
whole  outfit  and  go  back  to  the  pump  business.  The 
idea  of  springing  this  on  me  when  I  told  him  in  con- 
fidence what  happened.  In  confidence  1  Pshaw,  he's 
just  like  the  rest  of  his  gang  of  reporters.  Nothing 
sacred  to  them  if  they  can  get  an  item  out  of  it.  Ghouls, 
that's  what  they  are.  Worse  than  that.  They're — 
they're " 

I  had  to  quit,  for  I  couldn't  think  of  anything  worse 
than  a  ghoul.  I  rang  up  the  News.  Nobody  there 
but  an  office  boy  who  told  me,  fliply,  what  I  knew,  that 
Fox  wouldn't  be  down  until  noon.  I  thought  about 
calling  the  editor  at  his  house  and  protesting  to  him, 
but  I  didn't. 

"I'll  get  Fox  first,"  I  thought.  "I'll  just  walk  in 
and  pound  the  eternal  upholstery  out  of  him. 
I'll " 

Then  the  telephone  rang.  It  was  Dad.  "They  tell 
me  there's  a  piece  about  your  running  for  Alderman 
in  the  News  this  morning,  George." 

"Yes,  sir,  but  I  didn't " 

"All  right.  Drop  In  and  see  me  when  you  come 
down.  Good-by." 

Dad  wasn't  so  very  ferocious.  Still,  Dad  thinks 
everything  printed  in  the  News  is  a  fake.  So  that 
means  nothing.  When  he  finds  there  is  some  truth 


STEVE  FOX  PRINTS  IT  9£ 

back  of  it — oh,  boyl  I  shivered  over  that,  and  then 
it  occurred  to  me  to  read  the  item,  and  find  out  just 
what  depths  of  perfidy  Steve  Fox  plunged  himself.  I 
read  it. 

"There  was  a  story  in  circulation  at  the  City  Hall 
yesterday  that  Captain  George  Talbot,  son  of  John 
J.  Talbot,  president  of  the  Talbot  Pump  and  Engine 
Company,  intends  to  enter  politics,  and  will  run  for 
Alderman  from  the  Second  Ward  at  the  coming  elec- 
tion to  fill  the  vacancy  caused  by  the  death  of  Alderman 
Octavius  K.  Porter. 

"The  story  was  that  Boss  William  Hunkins  has  of- 
fered the  nomination  to  Talbot,  and  that  Talbot  is  con- 
sidering it.  Decision  will  be  made  on  Saturday. 
Neither  Talbot  nor  Hunkins  could  be  found  last  night. 

"Captain  Talbot  is  twenty-nine  years  old.  He  was 
in  the  Army,  saw  active  service  in  France,  and  won 
a  promotion  in  the  Argonne.  He  was  in  business  with 
his  father  after  he  finished  college  until  he  went  to  war, 
and  is  a  member  of  the  Union,  the  University,  the 
Country  and  the  Weehawis  clubs." 

I  read  it  twice  and  did  not  cool  down  much  during 
the  readings.  It  was  a  scandal  and  a  shame  that  Steve 
Fox  should  do  a  thing  like  that  to  me  when  the  chances 
are  ten  to  one  against  my  taking  the  nomination.  I 
shuddered  to  think  of  the  reception  I  would  get  at  the 
Union  Club,  and  at  the  Country  Club.  Then,  while 
I  was  shuddering,  the  telephone  rang  again.  Dowd 
called. 

"Hello,  Talbot.    Seen  the  News  this  morning?" 

"Yes.  I've  seen  the  News,  and  it's  a  perfect  damned 
outrage  that  Steve  Fox  should  do  a  thing  like  that — 


96  HUNKINS 

why — I  haven't — I — I  never  said — I'll  be  kidded  all 
over  the  place — it's " 

I  sputtered  like  a  wet  fuse. 

"Cheer  up!"  advised  Dowd.  "It  isn't  as  bad  as 
you  think.  Come  down  here,  if  you  have  time,  and 
we'll  talk  it  over." 

I  ran  out  to  the  garage,  took  the  runabout,  and  broke 
every  traffic  regulation  in  my  haste  to  get  to  the  Occi- 
dental Building.  When  I  got  into  Dowd's  office  I 
found  him  placidly  smoking  a  big  cigar,  and  reading 
the  News. 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  this?"  I  shouted  at 
him. 

"Meaning  that  item  about  you  in  the  paper,  I  sup- 
pose? Sit  down,  won't  you?  I  tell  you  it  isn't  as  bad 
as  you  think." 

"The  hell  it  isn't!" 

"Certainly  not.     Have  a  smoke?" 

"No." 

"All  right.  I  don't  blame  you.  They're  not  very 
good,  but  they're  the  best  at  hand  at  the  moment.  Now, 
then " 

I  was  sitting  on  the  edge  of  a  chair,  and  was  just 
about  ready  to  make  a  leap  at  him,  when  he  laughed: 

"Pretty  sore,  aren't  you?"  he  asked.  "But  don't 
start  hostilities  until  I  give  you  our  side  of  it." 

"Who's  'our'?" 

"Steve  Fox  and  myself." 

"So  you  were  in  on  it,  too?" 

"Yes;  of  course.    It's  my  idea." 

That  made  me  boil  over.  I  half  rose  from  the 
chair.  "Your  idea!"  I  shouted.  "Where  do  you  get 


STEVE  FOX  PRINTS  IT  97 

off  having  ideas  like  that  about  me?  And  why  didn't 
you  ask  me  about  it?" 

"It  was  late  when  we  got  together.  We  didn't  put 
it  up  to  you  because  we  knew  it  would  start  a  long  ar- 
gument, and  it  had  to  be  done  at  once,  or  not  at  all. 
We  took  a  chance  on  being  able  to  show  you  to-day 
that  it's  the  right  play." 

"You've  got  some  showing  to  do,"  I  said  trucu- 
lently. "You  can't  get  away  with  a  thing  like  this  with- 
out making  good,  and  making  good  right  now.  Go 
ahead." 

"I  will,  if  you  will  give  me  a  chance.  Now,  listen: 
Bill  Hunkins  sent  for  you  and  offered  to  make  you  an 
alderman.  You  are  half  inclined  to  accept.  Steve 
and  I  think  it  will  be  a  good  thing.  I  told  you  yes- 
terday that  there  were  but  two  reasons  why  Hunkins 
made  this  offer  to  you.  One  is  because  he  wants  to 
use  you  in  some  game  he  has  in  mind.  The  other  is 
because  he  wants  a  respectable  candidate  and  picks  you 
as  filling  the  bill.  I  gave  you  several  reasons  why  it 
might  be  of  help  to  what  we  have  in  mind  if  you  ac- 
cepted. They  were  good  reasons." 

"But  you  had  no  business  printing  this  before  I 
definitely  decided." 

"Oh,  yes  we  had,  and  have.  We  have  two  mighty, 
good  reasons.  The  first  is  that  this  item,  which  does 
not  say  you  are  going  to  run,  but  that  it  is  reported 
you  are  considering  the  proposition,  leaves  it  wide  open 
for  you.  Also,  it  gives  you  a  chance  to  find  out  what 
the  comeback  will  be  from  your  family,  from  your 
friends,  and  from  the  public  generally  before  you  are 
committed.  If  you  can't  stand  the  gaff  you  needn't  run. 


98  HUNKINS 

All  you  have  to  do  is  to  deny  the  story,  and  Steve  will 
print  the  denial,  and  it  is  all  over.  Only,  keep  out  of 
the  way  of  the  reporters  for  the  afternoon  papers  to- 
day. 

"The  second  reason  is  the  real  one.  Printing  that 
item  puts  it  squarely  up  to  Hunkins.  You  can  go  to 
him  now  and  say  to  him:  'Hunkins,  if  I  accept  this 
nomination  it  must  be  understood  that  I  accept  it  with- 
out any  obligations  actual  or  implied,  without  any 
strings  on  me,  without  any  promises  to  act  other  than 
independently  in  every  way.'  If  Hunkins  agrees,  you 
will  be  in  a  position  to  help  us  a  lot.  If  Hunkins 
doesn't  agree,  and  tries  to  tie  you  down  to  any  prom- 
ises, you  can  tell  him  to  go  to  hell,  and  issue  a  denial 
of  the  story  which  will  give  as  the  reason  for  your 
rejection  of  the  offer  the  fact  that  Hunkins  wants  you 
to  pledge  your  immortal  soul  to  him  as  a  return  for 
the  job.  That  will  jolt  Brother  Hunkins,  establish 
you  as  a  high-minded  and  independent  young  citizen, 
and  secure  you  considerable  applause  from  the  prole- 
tariat. Get  me?" 

"But  suppose  I  don't  want  to  go  that  far?" 

"Then  a  flat  denial  will  do  the  business.  You  will 
have  had  your  name  on  the  front  page  of  the  News, 
with  a  brief  but  complimentary  sketch  of  your  career, 
and  nobody  will  be  hurt.  Steve  will  print  anything 
you  want  to  say." 

He  had  me  thinking.  Also,  I  was  getting  back  to 
normal  in  temperature.  "Suppose  Hunkins  agrees  to 
my  proposition?"  I  said.  "He'll  never  say  so  to  any- 
body but  me." 

"Well,  you  can  talk,  can't  you?    All  you've  got  to 


STEVE  FOX  PRINTS  IT  99 

do,  if  you  accept  this  place,  is  to  make  a  statement  that 
you  take  it  absolutely  unpledged  and  with  no  obliga- 
tions to  any  person  but  yourself.  That  will  fix  that.'* 

"Will  Hunkins  stand  for  that?" 

"He'll  have  to,  or  you  won't  run.  If  he  wants  you 
as  badly  as  I  think  he  does,  he'll  stand.  If  it  is  only 
a  case  of  making  a  front  with  you  he'll  tell  you  good 
night." 

"Look  here,  Dowd,"  I  said,  after  considering  a 
minute,  "you  seem  to  take  it  for  granted  that  I  will 
accept  this  nomination." 

"You  will  if  Steve  and  I  can  urge  you  into  it." 

"Why?" 

"Because  there's  a  great  field  opening  up  before  us 
here  in  this  city,  and  we  need  representatives,  men  who 
can  stand  out  in  front  as  rallying  points  for  our  or- 
ganization. Those  men  must  be  known,  and  they  will 
be  of  greater  use  if  they  are  politically  known.  I  admit 
that  alderman  isn't  much,  but  it  is  something.  Besides, 
we  elect  a  mayor  next  year." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"It  may  mean  something,  or  it  may  not.  Maskee 
on  that,  as  the  Chinese  say.  The  point  is,  just  now: 
Are  you  going  to  accept  or  not?" 

"I'll  tell  you  to-night." 

"All  right.  Meantime,  if  I  were  you  I'd  drop  in 
at  the  club  at  luncheon  time,  and  see  how  many  har- 
poons you  get  from  that  gang  of  expert  harpooners." 

Dowd  mollified  me  somewhat,  but  not  entirely. 
When  I  left  his  office  I  still  felt  hurt,  indignant  and 
more  or  less  outraged,  but  as  I  slid  along  in  the  run- 
about the  thing  began  to  clarify  for  me  like  this: 


ioo  HUNKINS 

"Dowd  and  Steve  know  more  about  politics  than  I 
do.  Perhaps  they  are  right.  Anyhow,  I've  got  to  take 
somebody's  judgment  to  help  me  over  the  first  steps 
of  this  game,  and  Dowd  makes  me  feel  he's  honest  in 
what  he  says.  Really,  there  isn't  much  harm  done, 
even  if  I  don't  accept,  for  all  there  will  be  to  it  will 
be  some  joshing,  and  if  I  can't  josh  back  with  the  gang 
I  deserve  all  I  get  and  more,  too." 

I  drove  out  into  the  country,  both  because  I  didn't 
want  to  see  Dad  too  early,  being  apprehensive  about 
Dad,  and  because  of  Dowd's  advice  about  keeping 
away  from  the  reporters  for  the  afternoon  papers. 
No  matter  if  he  did  throw  me  down  this  way,  Steve 
Fox  is  best  to  be  my  journalistic  impresario  at  present. 

It  was  a  quarter  to  one  when  I  got  back  to  the 
Talbot  Building.  Dad  let  me  in  at  once. 

"How  about  this  article  in  the  News?"  he  asked,  as 
soon  as  I  closed  the  door. 

"I  didn't  authorize  it." 

"Is  it  true?" 

"Yes  and  no." 

"How  far  has  it  got?" 

"I've  talked  to  Hunkins." 

"Anybody  else?" 

"Steve  Fox  and  a  man  named  Dowd." 

"Thomas  J.  Dowd,  the  lawyer?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"What  does  Dowd  say?" 

"He's  for  it." 

"Why?" 

"Says  it  will  be  a  good  thing  to  help  along  my  part 


STEVE  FOX  PRINTS  IT  101 

in  the  organization  of  the  soldiers.  He's  working  on 
that." 

"Are  you  going  in  with  him?" 

"I  hope  to." 

"Hum."  Dad  pulled  his  eyebrow  and  I  waited  for 
results.  "Ever  meet  Hunkins  before?"  he  asked. 

"No,  sir." 

"Any  strings  to  the  offer?" 

"No,  sir,  and  there  won't  be  if  I  take  it." 

"Thinking  of  taking  it,  are  you?" 

"I  might." 

Then  something  inside  me  burst.  "Look  here, 
Dad,"  I  said.  "What  is  there  so  reprehensible  about 
going  into  politics  if  a  man  goes  in  on  a  clean  and 
decent  basis  ?  How  the  devil  are  we  going  to  get  bet- 
ter conditions  if  some  of  us  don't  do  the  work?  Where 
do  we  get  off  sitting  around  here  and  grousing  all  the 
time  and  doing  nothing  else?  Isn't  there  some  way  of 
playing  this  game  out  in  the  open,  and  getting  results 
that  way?" 

Dad  looked  out  of  the  window.    My  cue  was  silence. 

Presently,  he  turned  and  said:  "There  may  be  some 
way  of  playing  it  out  in  the  open,  but  I've  had  bad  luck 
in  finding  it.  Twenty  years  ago  I  crusaded  against  the 
same  sort  of  conditions  that  exist  now,  and  was  laughed 
at  for  my  fights.  I  had  a  lot  of  conversational  sympa- 
thy from  the  element  that  should  have  been  fighting 
with  me,  but  when  it  came  down  to  the  real,  hard 
rough  and  tumble  they  were  too  busy,  or  too  refined, 
or  had  some  other  reason.  I  am  proud  of  this  city. 
I  want  it  to  be  well  run.  I  want  it  to  be  clean  and 
progressive  in  the  matter  of  public  works  and  govern- 


102  HUNKINS 

ment.  I  want  it  to  have  fine  schoolhouses  and  libraries, 
and  hospitals,  and  other  institutions.  I  fought  for 
these  things.  I  had  little  support. 

"Let  me  tell  you  one  thing,  son:  When  there's  mu- 
nicipal grafting  being  done,  all  the  grafters  are  not  the 
political  grafters.  The  business  men  get  their  share, 
or  some  of  them,  and,  usually,  the  biggest  ones.  That's, 
why  it  always  is  so  hard  to  stir  a  business  community 
into  action  in  a  political  way.  It  will  cost  them  some- 
thing. I  fought  hard.  I  was  beaten.  Then  I  quit,  and 
tried  other  tactics." 

"What  tactics,  Dad?" 

"No  matter.  Meantime,  I'm  beginning  to  think  you 
are  in  earnest  in  this  business.  Are  you?" 

"I  am,  Dad." 

"Well,  you're  hanging  to  it  like  a  puppy  to  a  root, 
anyhow.  Rather  a  surprise  to  me.  I  haven't  noticed 
much  interest  before  this  in  anything  but  the  latest 
dance  step." 

"The  Army  changed  that." 

"Glad  to  know  it.     When  have  you  got  to  decide?" 

"To-morrow  morning." 

"What's  your  idea?" 

"I  feel  like  taking  it." 

His  attitude  changed.  Until  then  we  talked  on  the 
basis  of  man  to  man.  Dad  threw  the  conversation  into 
the  father-and-son  gear. 

"Is  that  all?"  he  asked,  sort  of  contemptuously. 
"Milk-and-watery  about  it,  eh?  Can't  make  up  your 
mind?  Lack  of  decision,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing? 
Army  didn't  change  that  phase  of  you  much." 

Gee!    That  man  can  be  disagreeable  when  he  sets 


STEVE  FOX  PRINTS  IT  103 

about  it.  He  was  trying  for  a  rise  out  of  me,  and  he 
got  one. 

"Yes,  I  can  make  up  my  mind,"  I  flared.  "I'm 
going  to  take  it." 

Dad  smiled.  "Keep  your  shirt  on,"  he  said,  "and 
when  I've  signed  these  letters  we'll  go  and  have  some 
lunch.  Where  shall  it  be?" 

"I  was  thinking  about  the  club.  Might  as  well  face 
it  there  now  as  any  other  time." 

"Good  idea!  We'll  go  over  there  and  face  it  to- 
gether." 


CHAPTER  X 

I  MEET  MISS  CRAWFORD 

HEY,  George  1"  Fred  Daskin  shouted  across 
the  smoking  room  of  the  club  as  Dad  and 
I  entered,  "I  see  you  took  that  tip  I  gave 
you  the  other  day." 

"What  tip?" 

"What  tip?  Listen  at  him!  Why,  I  called  you  up 
on  the  phone  and  told  you  to  run  for  alderman  in  our 
ward,  and  I  see  by  the  News  this  morning  that  you're 
going  to  do  it.  I  guess  I'm  bad  as  a  political  dopester, 
eh,  what?  Grand  little  successor  to  the  late  and  un- 
lamented  Octavius  K.  you'll  be,  too." 

Fred  went  out  to  the  middle  of  the  crowded  room, 
and  stuck  his  hand  in  the  bosom  of  his  coat.  He's 
our  best  amateur  actor. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  Board,"  he  declaimed,  "I  feel 
that  I  scarcely  need  say  that  in  rising  on  this  important 
occasion  I  have  none  but  the  best  interests  of  my  con- 
stituents at  heart.  I  am  now  about  to  relate  an  in- 
stance that  is  fraught  with  great  importance  to  this 
fair  city  of  ours,  than  whom  none  is  prouder  of  which 
than  I.  As  I  was  taking  my  matutinal  stroll  I  chanced 
to  stay  my  progress  adjacent  to  the  magnificent  public 
library " 

"Library!"  squeaked  Peter  McWhirter,  struggling 

104 


I  MEET  MISS  CRAWFORD  105 

to  his  feet  from  his  big  chair,  "I  know  a  good  one 
about  a  library.  It  seems " 

The  shout  of  laughter  stopped  Daskin,  and  Dad  and 
I  went  up  to  the  dining  room.  They  are  a  little  afraid 
of  Dad  in  that  club,  for  he  has  a  way  of  talking 
straight,  and  not  many  of  them  bothered  us.  Some 
bolder  cut-ups  did  come  over  and  ask  me  if  I  am  a 
henchman  of  Hunkins  or  Pendergrast,  to  let  them  in 
on  the  graft,  and  similar  stuff;  but  it  was  much  easier 
to  take  because  Dad  was  there.  As  we  were  drinking 
our  coffee  Mr.  Perkins  sidled  across  the  room. 

"George,"  he  said,  "let  me  congratulate  you,  if 
congratulations  are  in  order.  I  mean,  if  the  report 
in  the  paper  is  true.  I  consider  it  a  fine  thing  for  a 
young  man  like  you  to  enter  the  civic  administration. 
We  need  safe  and  sane  men  in  this  crisis." 

"You  sure  do,"  I  thought,  remembering  what  he  said 
at  the  bank  meeting,  but  I  thanked  him  politely,  and, 
presently,  Dad  and  I  went  out. 

"The  trouble  with  most  of  that  crowd,"  said  Dad, 
"is  that  they  think  their  standing  in  the  community 
depends  on  the  size  of  the  flock  of  automobiles  they 
own,  and  that  they  have  fulfilled  all  their  civic  obli- 
gations and  advanced  to  leading  citizenship  when  they 
can  afford  to  import  a  car.  They  are  suffering  from 
moneyitis,  which  has  two  phases:  Have  got  and 
haven't  got.  The  have-gotters  devote  all  their  efforts 
to  spending  it  ostentatiously,  and  the  haven't-gotters 
use  every  moment  trying  to  get  it  and  proclaiming  they 
really  have  it.  They  don't  amount  to  a  hoot  as  citi- 
zens— not  a  hoot.  Don't  bother  about  them." 

Dad  said  nothing  more  about  politics,  and  we  part- 


106  HUNKINS 

ed  at  the  entrance  to  the  Talbot  Building.  I  went  off 
to  find  Steve  Fox.  I  ran  him  down  in  the  City  Hall. 

"Kamerad!"  he  shouted  when  he  saw  me,  throwing 
up  his  hands  and  grinning  at  me. 

"What  did  you  do  it  for?"  I  demanded. 

"Have  you  seen  Dowd?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  you  know.  Raised  merry  hell  around  here," 
he  continued,  jubilantly.  "All  the  gang  are  trying  to 
get  hold  of  Hunkins  to  find  out  what  it  means,  and 
Hunkins  isn't  to  be  found.  They're  sore  as  crabs,  for 
they  thought  they  had  it  fixed  to  slip  Martin  Ten  Eyck 
into  the  place,  Martin  being  a  good,  consistent  per- 
former who  splits  with  reasonable  honesty.  Going 
to  it?" 

"I  think  I  shall,  if  this  hasn't  queered  it  with  Hun- 
kins." 

"It  won't,  not  if  he  wants  you.  Pretty  good  sign  it 
hasn't,  his  keeping  under  cover.  I  know  that  bird. 
He'll  be  waiting  for  you  on  the  doorstep  to-morrow. 
Keep  away  from  that  afternoon  paper  bunch.  I'm 
your  authorized  press  agent.  So  long." 

I  went  to  a  matinee,  and  stayed  until  the  afternoon 
papers  were  on  the  streets.  They  had  nothing  but 
paragraphs  rewritten  from  the  News.  It  was  just 
eight  o'clock  when  I  reached  Room  48,  Tucker  Build- 
ing. There  was  no  sign  on  the  door,  but  a  light  shone 
through  the  glass,  not  only  of  that  door,  but  of  the 
doors  of  two  adjoining  rooms  down  the  hall. 

I  knocked  and  entered.  Five  people  were  there, 
four  men  and  one  woman.  I  knew  three  of  the 
men,  Dowd,  Steve  Fox,  and  a  Major  Pickard,  who 


I  MEET  MISS  CRAWFORD  107 

crossed  on  the  same  transport  with  me.  Dowd  intro- 
duced the  woman  to  me  as  Miss  Esther  Crawford,  and 
the  other  man  as  Colonel  Anderson.  Presently,  three 
other  men  and  two  women  came  in.  These  were  Mrs. 
Ainsley,  Miss  Harrow,  Sergeant  Place,  Major  Car- 
ruthers,  and  Sergeant  Ralston.  "All  interested  in  our 
plan,"  Dowd  said. 

The  most  conspicuous  thing  about  the  furnishings 
of  Room  48  was  a  big  map  of  the  city  that  hung  on 
the  wall,  with  the  boundaries  of  the  nineteen  wards 
heavily  marked  in  black  lines.  There  were  sets  of 
figures  in  red  within  each  ward  enclosure,  and  various 
other  notations  I  couldn't  make  out.  Two  flat-topped 
desks,  two  typewriter  tables  with  machines  on  them 
and  a  row  of  filing  cases  made  up  the  rest  of  the  fur- 
niture, aside  from  the  chairs.  The  door  leading  to 
the  next  room  was  open,  and  I  heard  typewriters  click- 
ing. It  looked  business-like.  Dowd  and  Miss  Craw- 
ford were  going  over  some  papers,  and  the  rest  talked 
casually. 

I  knew  there  would  be  a  woman's  end  of  it.  Women 
are  as  important  as  men,  maybe  more  so,  because  every 
soldier  who  goes  into  an  organization  that  has  for 
one  of  its  objects  the  use  of  the  vote,  probably  has, 
within  the  circle  of  his  immediate  relationship,  at  least 
one  woman  who  has  as  many  votes  as  he  has — one. 
Moreover,  the  women  of  our  city,  like  the  women  of 
every  other  place  in  the  United  States,  were  active  in 
all  sorts  of  war  work,  and  some  of  them  developed  into 
great  organizers,  and  executives.  Undoubtedly,  these 
women  were  of  that  type.  Dowd  would  see  to  that. 


io8  HUNKINS 

I  looked  these  women  over.  Impressionistically, 
Mrs.  Ainsley  has  the  appearance  of  one  of  those 
women  who  has  a  horror  of  getting  fat,  and  is  likely 
to,  while  Miss  Harrow  doesn't  give  a  whoop  how  thin 
she  is.  She  is  rather  thin.  Mrs.  Ainsley  is  a  care- 
fully gowned  combination  of  curves,  and  Miss  Harrow 
a  severely  tailored  assortment  of  angles.  Shoes  are  a 
sure  indication  of  femininity,  or  the  absence  of  it.  Mrs. 
Ainsley's  shoes  are  thirty-dollars-a-pair  confections, 
and  Miss  Harrow's  might  have  been  made  by  a  boot- 
maker, neat,  but  bootey.  Proceeding  to  the  other  ex- 
treme, Mrs.  Ainsley's  hair  is  the  triumphant  concoc- 
tion of  a  skillful  hair-dresser,  and  Miss  Harrow's  a 
wad  wadded  by  an  impatient  woman  who  thinks  hair 
a  nuisance.  Mrs.  Ainsley's  hat  exudes  expensiveness 
and  exclusiveness,  and  Miss  Harrow's  is  a  stiff 
brimmed  dark  straw  that  proclaims  masculinity. 

I  had  not  reached  Miss  Crawford  in  my  casual  cata- 
loguing of  the  women  when  Dowd  said:  "I  think  all 
are  here  who  are  coming,  and  I  suggest  that  Miss 
Crawford  shall  read  some  letters  she  has  received." 

Miss  Crawford  took  up  several  sheets  of  paper, 
moved  over  to  the  light,  and  began  to  read  letters 
from  persons  who  politely  regretted  their  inability  to 
be  at  that  meeting,  and  said  they  are  too  busy,  or  too 
something  else  to  join  in  the  work,  or  from  other  per- 
sons who  also  politely  regretted  their  inability  to  be 
there,  but  displayed  interest,  and  promised  to  come 
next  time.  The  light  fell  strongly  upon  her  as  she 
read,  and  I  had  an  excellent  opportunity  for  a  detailed 
look  at  her.  She  was  entirely  at  ease,  read  the  letters 
in  a  clear,  pleasant  voice,  and  made  some  comment 


I  MEET  MISS  CRAWFORD  109 

on  each  one,  in  way  of  identification  and  description 
of  the  writer.  I  tried  to  listen,  but  the  reader  dis- 
tracted my  attention  from  what  she  read.  So  I  con- 
cluded that  the  letters  could  be  taken  up  later.  Mean- 
time, as  to  Miss  Crawford. 

I  know  it  is  banal,  but  all  I  could  think  of,  taking 
Miss  Crawford  as  a  whole,  is  that  she  is  a  "well  set- 
up" woman,  with  a  good,  round  figure — not  fat,  nor 
ever  going  to  be,  but  with  solid  flesh.  "I'll  bet  she'll 
weigh  twenty  pounds  more  than  one  would  naturally 
expect,"  I  thought.  She  has  one  of  those  complexions 
that  a  bright  light  helps,  instead  of  hinders — rosy  be- 
cause of  the  healthy  red  blood  that  is  just  under  the 
smooth  skin  of  the  cheeks — rosy  but  not  ruddy,  and 
with  the  rosiness  of  it  diminishing  to  an  alluring  pink 
at  the  temples,  the  tips  of  the  ears,  and  the  firm  and 
rounded  chin.  I  remember  once,  in  a  discussion  of 
her  always  interesting  but  often  inconclusive  sex,  with 
Jimmie  Chambers  he  described  just  such  a  woman  as 
his  idea  of  what  all  women  should  be,  saying:  "If  I 
ever  find  one  I  think  I'll  eat  her  with  cream  and  sugar, 
for  she'll  have  the  combined  flavor  of  blackberries  and 
loganberries — a  real  flavor,  not  the  mere  sweetness 
of  the  blonde  and  blue-eyed  peaches  and  cream  type." 

Miss  Crawford's  eyes,  I  noted,  are  gray  and  hair 
a  dark  brown,  almost  black.  She  has  a  lot  of  hair, 
and  it  is  neither  so  scrupulously  elegant  as  Mrs.  Ains- 
ley's,  nor  so  carelessly  inelegant  as  Miss  Harrow's 
in  its  manifestations,  but  piled  up  becomingly.  Her 
eyelashes  are  dark,  and  as  she  looked  down  at  her 
letters,  standing  there  in  the  glare  of  the  light,  I  could 
see  they  are  long.  Her  eyebrows  are  dark,  also,  and 


no  HUNKINS 

her  teeth,  even,  substantial  and  gleamingly  white  by 
contrast  to  her  full,  red  lips. 

She  wore  a  blue,  tailored  suit  that  hit  me  as  being 
about  as  nifty  a  thing  in  the  dress  line  as  I've  seen 
lately,  and  looked  as  womanly  as  Miss  Harrow's  coat 
and  trousers — excuse  me,  skirt — looked  masculine,  and, 
at  that,  didn't  give  the  impression  of  extreme  fashion. 
Her  waist  was  a  soft,  white  stuff,  and  I  could  see  her 
healthy,  solid  flesh  glowing  pinkly  through  it  and 
through  the  opening  at  the  neck.  Her  hands  are 
plump  and  white,  with  but  one  ring,  rather  heavy,  of  an 
odd  shape,  on  the  little  finger  of  her  left  hand,  with  a 
brilliant  opal  in  it.  "No  superstition  about  her,"  I 
thought,  "a  sensible  sort  of  a  person,  no  doubt."  Her 
wrist  watch  wasn't  one  of  those  bejeweled  ostenta- 
tions that  many  women  wear,  but  a  substantial  affair 
that  looked  as  if  one  might  catch  a  train  by  it.  "Keeps 
her  appointments,  I'll  bet,"  I  voted  to  myself.  Her 
shoes  were  of  brown  leather,  without  fancy  tops,  and 
stood  exactly  in  the  same  relation  to  the  shoes  of  the 
other  women  as  her  suit  did  to  the  ultra  costume  of 
the  one  and  the  ulterior  costume  of  the  other. 

"Can't  call  her  a  beauty,"  I  summed  up.  "Her 
face  is  entirely  too  intelligent  for  that.  But  she's 
darned  easy  to  look  at,  just  the  same,  and  by  the  way 
she  handles  herself  I  take  it  that  she  knows  where  she 
is  at  every  second." 

I  was  hazy  about  what  she  had  read  when  she  fin- 
ished, for  I  had  only  assimilated  snatches  of  it  all,  but 
I  had  assimilated  a  good  deal  of  her,  and  was  ready 
to  approve  of  all  she  set  forth. 

"There  are  some  here,"  said  Dowd,  "who  are  here 


I  MEET  MISS  CRAWFORD  in 

for  the  first  time.  In  order  that  our  objects  may  be 
clear,  and  what  is  done  thus  far  understood  I  will 
outline  our  work  as  briefly  as  possible.  I  take  it  that 
all  of  us  are  convinced  that  these  four  million  men  who 
went  into  the  army  and  navy  are,  because  of  their 
experiences  and  what  they  learned  in  active  service, 
coming  back  to  civil  life  with  a  rather  enlarged  hori- 
zon, and  with  a  wider  appreciation  of  their  own  latent 
powers  as  citizens.  Not  all  of 'them,  perhaps,  but  a 
good  many  of  them.  They  have  learned  the  value  of 
organization.  They  have  been  told  that  they  saved 
the  world.  They  believe  it,  but  they  do  not  get  much 
beyond  that  bald  acceptance  of  the  fact,  because  the 
heroics  of  it,  as  put  to  them,  have  obscured  what  it 
heralds  so  far  as  our  country  is  concerned. 

"They  mostly  think,  vaguely,  perhaps,  but  con- 
cretely enough  to  supply  a  basis  for  development,  that 
they  can  capitalize  in  civil  life  the  knowledge  of  or- 
ganization and  the  comradeship,  the  power  of  united 
purpose  that  the  war  unfolded  to  them,  certainly  to 
their  own  good,  and  possibly  to  the  good  of  the  coun- 
try and  the  communities  in  which  they  live.  So  do  we. 
Naturally,  the  best  and  most  practical  way  in  which  this 
raw  material  may  be  used  is  by  welding  it  into  an  or- 
ganization that  shall  have  for  its  purpose  these  very 
things:  Help  for  the  soldier,  and  help  for  the  com- 
munity. Furthermore,  the  most  effective  manner  in 
which  an  organization  may  be  used  is  in  politics. 

"Now,  these  boys,  largely,  know  little  about  poli- 
tics. A  certain  proportion  of  them  are  familiar  enough 
with  our  politics— a  certain  small  proportion — to  know 
that  the  soldier  has  been  a  most  potent  force  in  it  for 


ii2  HUNKINS 

fifty  years,  but  the  historical  aspect  of  it  is  not  the 
main  aspect.  Whether  they  know  what  has  happened 
or  not,  they  are  of  the  opinion  that  they,  as  returned 
soldiers  and  heroes,  can  make  things  happen,  and  all 
they  need  is  for  some  one  to  show  them  how.  That 
is  what  we  shall  try  to  do. 

"To  that  end,  a  few  of  us  have  begun  operations 
here,  working  on  the  theory  that  the  political  side  of 
the  matter  may  well  be  kept  somewhat  in  the  back- 
ground for  a  time,  and  the  social  and  comradely  side 
of  it  developed,  or  to  put  it  more  plainly,  that  the  bene- 
fits of  after-the-war  cooperation  and  organization  shall 
be  set  forth,  at  first,  in  general  terms,  and  not  specifi- 
cally as  having  political  trends.  Thus,  we  are  empha- 
sizing the  human  association  side  of  it,  the  keeping- 
together  side,  the  advantages  of  solidarity  and  contin- 
ued association,  pointing  out,  rather  in  the  way  of 
possibility  than  promise,  that  a  great  deal  of  good, 
in  many  ways,  may  come  out  of  such  organization.  We 
have  established  a  little  bureau  for  looking  after  jobs 
for  them,  for  helping  them  in  their  every-day  prob- 
lems, for  straightening  out  their  insurance  and  other 
puzzles,  for  pushing  things  along  for  them,  and,  in  fine, 
big-brothering  them — they  are  mostly  boys,  as  yet — • 
all  down  the  line.  Once  we  get  them  together  that 
way,  it  will  not  be  hard  to  show  them  how  they  may; 
be  of  power  politically. 

"There  are  various  contemplated  national  organi- 
zations of  these  boys,  and  some  of  them  have  organ- 
izers here,  but  we  are  keeping  clear  of  those.  We  tell 
them  to  wait  and  see  what  happens,  pointing  out  that 
the  first  post  of  the  G.  A.  R.  wasn't  organized  until 


I  MEET  MISS  CRAWFORD  113 

a  year  after  the  Civil  War  ended.  What  we  are  try- 
ing to  do  is  to  combine  our  local  material  into  an  or- 
ganization that  shall  operate  locally,  first  off,  and  that 
may  be  swung  into  the  best  state  and  national  organi- 
zation that  is  evolved." 

Dowd  then  went  into  details,  telling  us  that  the  plan 
is  to  organize  a  central  committee  that  is  to  have  super- 
visory charge  of  all  the  work,  and  to  supplement  with 
ward  and  precinct  committees  for  detailed  application 
to  localities.  The  precinct  committees  will  report  to 
the  ward  committees,  and  the  ward  committees  to  the; 
central  committee.  As  soon  as  practicable  there  will 
be  ward  headquarters,  which  will  be  meeting  places 
for  the  soldiers  and  their  women  folks,  and  will  be 
made  as  attractive  as  funds  will  allow.  These  com- 
mittees will  be  made  up  of  men  and  women,  equally 
represented,  and  will,  so  far  as  possible,  have  soldier 
membership,  to  give  them  the  personal  interest,  and 
membership  of  women  who  were  active  in  war  work 
in  the  ward,  or  who  are  popular  with  the  boys  of  the 
different  localities.  They  will  be  as  democratic  as  the 
army  was.  "In  fact,"  Dowd  said,  "we  want  more  pri- 
vates and  non-coms  on  the  committees  than  officers. 
That  is  essential.  Three  of  us  here  to-night  were 
sergeants.  I  have  two  corporals  in  mind  who  will 
be  asked  to  go  on  the  central  committee.  The  idea  of 
rank  will  be  rigidly  excluded.  We  must  all  be  on  a 
common  basis  of  comradeship." 

He  then  asked  Miss  Crawford  to  explain  the  de- 
tail, telling  us  that  Miss  Crawford  was  secretary  to 
Governor  Plunkett,  whose  term  expired  in  1916,  and 
that  she  remained  at  the  state  capital  until  the  war 


ii4  HUNKINS 

ended  as  the  head  of  the  organization  section  of  the 
State  Council  of  Defense. 

"The  first  essential,"  she  said,  "is  to  secure  all  the 
information  that  we  can  concerning  the  individual 
soldiers  and  sailors  who  went  from  this  city  to  the  war, 
whether  as  volunteers,  as  national  guardsmen,  in  the 
draft  or  as  sailors.  That  is  not  so  difficult  as  it  seems, 
for  the  tabulations  of  the  State  Council  of  Defense  are 
available,  and  we  are  securing  a  fairly  complete  list 
from  the  files  of  the  newspapers  when  the  drafts  were 
made  and  the  calls  printed  in  Washington.  It  is  not 
complete  yet,  and  the  work  of  checking  up  the  names, 
and  eliminating  those  who  were  killed  or  died  of  dis- 
ease is  necessarily  slow.  Furthermore,  not  all  our  con- 
tingent is  home  yet,  and  some  of  them  will  not  be 
home  for  several  months. 

"In  round  numbers,  exclusive  of  officers,  between 
ten  and  eleven  thousand  men  went  into  the  army  and 
navy  from  this  city.  I  should  say  that  our  losses  were 
not  more  than  five  hundred,  so  we  may  figure  on  a 
potential  strength  of  ten  thousand.  Of  course,  we 
shall  not  get  all  of  these,  because  many  of  them  will 
not  join,  some  will  go  to  other  cities,  and  for  other 
reasons.  If  we  get  eight  thousand  we  shall  do  well. 
In  addition  to  these  there  are  eight  or  ten  thousand 
women,  possibly  more,  who  may  be  considered  as  ma- 
terial for  co-related  action.  Thus,  if  we  succeed  as  we 
hope  to,  we  shall  have,  say,  sixteen  thousand  members, 
or  thereabouts  in  the  course  of  a  year.  The  civilian 
vote  in  the  gubernatorial  campaign  of  1918,  in  this 
county,  was,  roundly,  75,000  of  which  the  Republicans 
had  a  plurality  of  14,000.  The  city  cast  60,000  of 


I  MEET  MISS  CRAWFORD  115 

those  votes,  and,  allowing  for  the  same  percentage  of 
Republicanism  here,  which  is  practically  maintained, 
that  means  there  are  about  40,000  Republicans  and 
20,000  Democrats,  including  the  women. 

"Undoubtedly,  the  soldiers  and  sailors  will  divide 
in  their  political  preferences  in  about  this  proportion, 
for  our  politics,  in  this  country,  is  largely  a  matter  of 
inheritance.  That  is,  men  are  Republicans,  or  Demo- 
crats, because  their  fathers  are,  mostly.  I  suppose, 
now  that  the  women  have  the  vote,  the  first  genera- 
tion of  us  will  get  our  political  affiliations  from  our 
fathers,  or  other  men  folks,  too,  but,  presently,  no 
doubt  the  girls  will  be  somewhat  influenced  by  their 
mothers.  Maybe  not,  but  that  isn't  important. 

"The  point  is  that  to  get  effective  and  concerted 
political  action  from  these  men — I  am  now  speaking  en- 
tirely of  the  political  phases  of  this  work — there  must 
be  an  additional  incentive  other  than  the  usual  party 
issues  of  policies.  If  that  were  the  case  they  would 
separate  along  their  original  preferential  lines.  We 
purpose  to  supply  that  additional  incentive  for  soli- 
darity of  action  with  our  organization  of  the  soldiers 
and  sailors  for  their  mutual  benefit  and  help  and  com- 
bined power — to  add  the  great  element  of  self-inter- 
est. If  we  can  do  that,  and  can  control  our  16,000 
votes  we  can  accomplish  almost  anything  we  want  in 
this  city,  for  that  block  of  votes,  thrown  either  way, 
will  turn  the  scale,  and  will,  also,  demand  and  receive 
adequate  consideration  from  the  old  party  chiefs.  In- 
deed, we  can  get  anything  from  mayor  down,  and 
nobody  can  hinder  us." 

I  never  heard  a  woman  talk  like  that  before.    I 


n6  HUNKINS 

never  knew  a  woman  who  knew  as  much  about  poli- 
tics as  I  do,  and  I  don't  know  much.  Here  is  one, 
I  thought,  who  not  only  knows  more  about  politics 
than  I  do,  but  more  than  most  of  the  men  I  know. 
The  women  of  my  acquaintance  who  talk  any  politics 
at  all,  talk  sketchily,  and  are  for  suffrage  because  it 
helps  them  to  get  their  pictures  in  the  papers,  or  are 
against  it  for  the  same  reason.  This  woman  knows 
details,  figures,  situations,  and  has  a  clear  grasp  of 
what  can  be  done.  "Jimminy!"  I  thought,  "if  I  am 
going  to  associate  with  her  in  this  work  I'd  better  find 
out  a  few  things  or  she'll  make  me  look  like  a  duffer 
if  I  talk  to  her." 

Miss  Crawford  then  told  us  of  her  office  organiza- 
tion, her  clerks,  letter-writing,  circularization,  litera- 
ture and  so  on.  "It's  a  mere  case  of  salesmanship," 
she  said,  "to  use  an  overworked  term.  We  have  some- 
thing we  want  to  get  to  these  boys  and  their  women 
folk  and  we  are  using  modern  methods  for  accom- 
plishing that  end.  Our  preliminary  campaign  is  about 
over.  The  work  of  ward  organization  will  soon  be- 
gin. We  have  already  set  up  the  nucleus  of  these  ward 
committees,  and  as  the  boys  come  back  we'll  find  them 
and  pledge  them  so  far  as  we  are  able.  Shall  I  show 
you  our  plant?" 

She  took  us  into  the  other  rooms,  where  there  were 
many  filing  cases  holding  cards,  duplicating  machines, 
typewriters — all  the  paraphernalia  for  propaganda, 
organization  and  publicity.  Several  clerks  were  at 
work  in  the  other  room.  When  we  reached  the  third 
she  said,  "This  is  Mr.  Fox's  office." 

"What  do  you  do,  Steve?"  I  asked. 


I  MEET  MISS  CRAWFORD  117 

"Oh,"  he  said,  "I'm  press  agent,  and  write  the  cir- 
culars." 

"And  you,  Dowd?" 

"I'm  sort  of  self-appointed  chairman  until  we  get 
our  central  committee  organized." 

"And  you,  Miss  Crawford?" 

"I'm  general  inside  manager,  secretary,  and  so  on." 

Then  Sergeant  Ralston  voiced  a  thought  that  was  in 
my  mind,  and  probably  in  the  minds  of  some  of  the 
others. 

"Where's  the  money  coming  from  to  run  all  this?" 

"We  haven't  spent  much  as  yet,"  Dowd  answered. 
"Most  of  us  work  for  nothing.  Mrs.  Ainsley  and  Miss 
Harrow  have  helped  generously,  and  some  others. 
There  will  be  a  ways  and  means  committee  presently. 
We  can  get  the  money.  That  isn't  the  problem.  The 
problem  is  to  get  the  boys." 


CHAPTER  XI 

I  HEAR  SOME  THINGS 

STICK    around   until    after   these   people   go," 
Dowd  said  to  me.     "I  want  you  to  get  bet- 
ter   acquainted    with    Miss    Crawford,    and 
there's  that  aldermanic  business,  too." 
It  was  decided  to  hold  the  meeting  for  the  organi- 
zation of  the  central  committee  on  the  following  Fri- 
day, and  those  present  went  out  after  offering  their 
comment  and  suggestion,  leaving  Dowd,  Steve,  Miss 
Crawford  and  myself  in  the  room. 

"What's  the  decision?"  asked  Dowd. 
"I'm  going  to  take  it." 

"Good   work!     Hear   anything  more   from   Hun- 
kins?" 

"Not  a  thing." 

"How  did  you  get  by  at  the  club  and  with  your 
father?" 

"Dad  seemed  non-committal,  although  I  sort  of 
felt  at  the  end  of  our  conversation  that  he  prodded  me 
into  saying  that  I'll  take  it.  Anyhow,  he  went  over  to 
the  club  with  me,  and  the  comedians  there  didn't  have 
much  chance  with  him  along.  There  was  some  joshing, 
but  not  a  great  deal.  Did  you  find  out  anything?" 
"No,  I  didn't.  My  grapevine  into  the  Hunkins 

118 


I  HEAR  SOME  THINGS  119 

outfit  didn't  work  this  time.  The  regulars  are  sore 
over  the  story,  but  Hunkins  isn't  saying  a  word  one  way 
or  the  other,  and  I  can't  tap  him  direct.  You'll  see 
him  in  the  morning?" 

"Yes." 

"Let  us  know  how  you  come  out.  I'll  be  at  my 
office  all  day." 

"And,  say,  George,"  put  in  Steve,  "you  sew  it  up 
until  after  dinner,  will  you,  so  I  can  give  your  upper 
circles  another  laugh  of  scorn  with  their  breakfasts. 
I  don't  want  to  be  beaten  on  my  own  story,  you  know." 

Steve  went  off  to  his  office,  and  Miss  Crawford 
walked  up  the  street  with  Dowd  and  myself.  I  ob- 
served that  she  has  a  ready  and  happy  sort  of  a  smile, 
and  that  when  she  took  time  to  appraise  me,  as  she 
did  after  the  others  had  left,  she  seemed  to  be  making 
a  mental  card  index  of  me  for  her  own  use,  classifying 
and  identifying  me — pigeonholing  me  for  future  refer- 
ence. She  asked  me  a  few  questions  about  myself,  lis- 
tened with  an  impersonal  air  of  interest  as  I  recited  my 
scant  Iliad,  and  turned  to  other  things.  "Gee!"  I 
thought,  "I  suppose  she  reads  character  at  sight  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing,"  and  I  bewailed  my  neglected  op- 
portunities to  get  equipment  for  treating  her  in  the 
same  manner.  It  was  only  a  week  ago  I  was  reading 
an  advertisement  how  one  can  become  an  intellectual 
giant  in  this  way  for  five  dollars. 

"What  do  you  think  is  the  mental  attitude  of  those 
boys  towards  all  this  thing?"  I  asked  her.  "I  mean, 
what  did  they  get  out  of  the  war?" 

"Why,"  she  said,  "I  believe  that  the  mental  atti- 
tude of  the  great  majority  of  those  who  went  to  war 


120  HUNKINS 

is  comparable,  to  a  certain  degree,  to  the  mental  atti- 
tude of  most  of  the  women  of  this  country,  so  far  as  its 
awakenings  are  concerned.  Now  laugh." 

She  turned  and  looked  at  me  with  a  healthy,  red- 
cheeked  sort  of  a  defiance.  Dowd  did  the  laughing. 
"It's  a  pretty  complex  situation  that  you  can't  find  a 
female  analogy  for,"  he  said. 

"Complex?"  she  retorted.  "Not  at  all.  A  complex 
situation  necessarily  is  feminine.  It  is  the  simple,  ob- 
vious male  things  that  make  comparisons  difficult,  and 
males  are  so  obvious,  you  know,  in  all  their  relations 
towards  the  world  and  those  who  dwell  thereupon." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  I  asked,  trying  to  probe  into 
this  wholesale  aspersion  on  my  superior  sex. 

"Certainly;  don't  you?  At  any  rate,  we  have  en- 
tered into  an  era  where  we  women  will  have  a  chance 
to  prove  it." 

"More  power  to  you,"  said  Dowd.  "We  men  have 
made  such  an  infernal  mess  of  running  the  world  that 
I,  for  one,  am  quite  ready  to  stand  aside  and  allow 
you  women  to  take  a  shot  at  it.  Only,  you  must  not 
shirk  your  responsibilities." 

"We  shan't  shirk  them  half  as  much  as  you  men 
did,  you  may  be  sure  of  that.  Responsibilities  are 
merely  matters  of  detail  and  most  women  gloat  over 
detail." 

"And  themselves,"  added  Dowd,  wickedly. 

"Certainly,"  she  replied.  "A  woman's  mind  instinc- 
tively turns  to  that  which  is  good,  and  beautiful  and 
true." 

"That  will  hold  you  for  a  while,"  I  said  to  Dowd. 

"It  will,"  he  chuckled.    "I'll  quit.    But  you  haven't 


I  HEAR  SOME  THINGS  121 

finished  answering  Talbot's  question,  Miss  Crawford." 
"What  I  mean  is  this,"  she  said.  "It  seems  to  me 
that  the  women  of  this  country,  and  of  every  other 
country,  for  that  matter,  have  gone  through  the  same 
evolution  the  men  have,  in  their  own  way,  and  in  a 
large  percentage  of  the  total  that  way  is  not  far  re- 
moved from  the  exact  manner  the  man  mind  thought 
out  the  matter,  or  is  thinking  it  out,  especially  the  man- 
soldier  mind.  The  woman  of  our  country,  with  some 
notable  exceptions — the  woman  in  the  mass,  I  mean — - 
is  comparable,  in  her  awakening  and  her  manner  of 
thought  after  that  awakening,  to  these  boys  who  went 
to  war.  The  soldiers  had  little  thought  of  anything 
but  their  immediate  concerns,  being  youthful,  and  the 
women,  until  lately,  had  but  little  thought  of  anything 
but  their  immediate  concerns,  being  'sheltered.'  How 
I  loathe  that  word! 

"She  hasn't  lost  her  femininity,  except  in  the  cases 
of  a  certain  number  of  up-to-date  Mary  Walkers  and 
crusaders,  but  she  has  been  jolted  into  thinking,  by  cir- 
cumstances, just  as  the  soldiers  were  jolted  into  think- 
ing by  their  actual  contact  with  war  and  the  war  ma- 
chinery. Also,  to  utilize  Mr.  Dowd's  characterization 
of  us,  a  woman's  chief  concern  is  herself.  We  are 
essentially  selfish,  and  introspective,  and  concrete.  We 
do  not  appreciate,  as  a  sex,  an  abstract  proposition. 
Hence,  the  selfish  interest  most  women  had  in  this  war, 
the  husband,  or  son,  or  brother,  or  relative  end  of  it 
set  her  mind  at  work.  No  matter  what  it  was  that 
started  her  mirid  to  working,  she  has  learned  that  there 
are  boundaries  and  mandatories,  and  Leagues  of  Na- 
tions, and  Balkan  States,  and  a  dismembered  Poland 


HUNKINS 

and  so  on;  and  she  has — I  speak  of  most  women,  not 
a  few  exceptions — for  the  first  time  in  her  life  taken 
a  peep,  of  her  own  volition  and  because  she  really 
wanted  to  know,  into  the  workings  of  the  governmen- 
tal things  of  those  other  countries  and  has  tried  to 
reason  out  the  possible,  real  cause  of  all  this  bloodshed 
and  woe  and  misery  along  such  international,  allied, 
foreign  government  and  other  vague  lines  as  she  has. 

"Now,  then,  this  has  logically — we  are  nebulously 
logical,  despite  what  you  men  say — brought  her  around 
to  a  sort  of  a  realization  of  how  our  own  government 
was  made  and  is  conducted.  I  venture  the  claim  that 
any  average  woman,  of  some  education,  if  closely  ques- 
tioned and  the  questions  put  in  simple,  understandable 
form,  will  tell  you  that  she,  finally,  has  come  to  know 
that  she  counts  as  a  part  of  her  government,  that  she  is 
a  unit  5n  it.  It  took  a  world  war  to  get  that  idea  into 
general  feminine  acceptance,  but  it  is  there  now.  Forty 
centuries  of  the  dicta,  which  not  many  of  us  disputed, 
that  the  woman's  place  is  in  the  home  was  set  aside  by 
the  circumstances  and  conditions  and  reactions  and 
reflexes  and  direct  contacts  of  this  war.  Women  were 
pulled  out  of  the  home  all  over  the  world  to  do  things 
they  had  to  do  because  no  one  else  was  at  hand  to  do 
them,  and  those  circumstances  induced  an  awakening 
that  must  inevitably  continue  for  all  time. 

"It  is  the  same  with  those  boys  who  went  to  war. 
They  were  brought  into  contacts  that  widened  both 
their  perceptions  and  their  perspectives,  broadened 
them,  gave  them  new  angles  on  life,  on  government  and 
on  what  both  mean.  They  are  new  men  just  as  the 
bulk  of  American  women,  and  world  women,  too,  for 


I  HEAR  SOME  THINGS  123 

that  matter,  have  become  new  women,  and  the  pos- 
sibilities of  both  for  direction,  guidance,  honest  use 
and  power  are  limitless ;  only,  both  must  be  instructed. 
They  have  been  awakened,  but  they  have  not  yet  the 
complete  conception  of  what  they  have  awakened  to." 

I  was  considerably  awed,  and  intensely  interested 
both  by  the  speaker  and  what  she  said.  She  is  an  en- 
tirely different  woman  from  any  I  ever  met,  except 
some  of  those  great  women  who  went  to  France.  My 
women  friends  are  mostly  of  the  type  the  society  re- 
porters write  gushing  paragraphs  about,  and  whose 
costumes  are  always  described  at  length,  accompanied 
by  photographs.  Those  newspaper  photographers 
certainly  are  enterprising  people !  A  woman  can  go  to 
a  ball  at  a  quarter  past  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  in  a 
new  gown,  and  the  picture  of  it  invariably  is  in  the 
paper  that  closes  its  society  page  at  midnight.  Quick 
work,  for  it  certainly  cannot  be  possible  that  these  re- 
fined and  modest  women  seek  such  glaring  publicity, 
and  have  the  photographs  taken  in  advance  and  dis- 
tributed for  that  purpose.  Most  of  my  women  friends 
are  entirely  interested  in  gowns,  golf,  bridge,  polo, 
shows  and  dancing,  and  what  the  others  in  their  set 
are  doing,  in  which  latter  their  interest  is  intense, 
incessant  and  implacable.  They  chatter.  She  talks. 

"Let's  go  in  and  get  some  supper,"  I  suggested,  as 
we  were  passing  the  Schoolcraft,  which  is  our  biggest 
hotel,  and  houses  our  best  restaurant. 

"I'd  love  to,"  said  Miss  Crawford,  and  we  turned 
in.  "Just  a  minute,"  she  continued,  as  we  reached 
the  foyer,  "until  I  run  and  powder  my  nose."  She 
disappeared. 


124  HUNKINS 

"Holy  smoke,  Dowd!"  I  said.  "This  paragon 
powders  her  nose." 

"Sure,  and  she  does  every  other  feminine  thing,  too. 
Don't  get  it  into  your  head  that  she  is  any  Sexless 
Susan  or  Militant  Maria.  She's  a  real  woman." 

"Does  she  dance?" 

"Dance?  Ask  her.  She's  got  Mrs.  Castle  or  that 
Walton  girl  beaten  a  block." 

I  began  to  see  a  light,  dimly.  Here  is  a  new  sort 
of  a  woman  so  far  as  I  am  concerned.  My  interest 
increased. 

"Who  are  the  other  women?"  I  asked. 

"Don't  get  off  wrong  about  them,  either,"  said 
Dowd.  "Because  Mrs.  Ainsley  looks  like  a  cream  puff 
it  isn't  any  sign  she  is  one.  She's  rich,  and  likes  to 
spend  money  dolling  herself  up,  but  she's  got  a  lot 
of  brains,  and  an  active,  sympathetic,  practical  inter- 
est in  a  good  many  things  that  are  worth  while.  So  has 
Miss  Harrow.  She  was  at  the  head  of  the  local  branch 
of  the  National  League  for  Woman's  Service,  and  did 
a  lot  of  important  work  in  Washington,  too." 

I  listened,  and  was  instructed,  but  my  mind  rested 
on  Miss  Crawford.  "How  old  is  she?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  about  fifty." 

"Get  out!     She  can't  be!" 

"Who  are  you  talking  about?     Miss  Harrow?" 

"No.     Miss  Crawford." 

"Oh !  Why,  I  guess  Miss  Crawford  is  twenty-eight 
or  twenty-nine,  or  thirty,  maybe.  How  the  devil  do  I 
know?  Twenty-eight,  for  a  guess." 

Just  then  Miss  Crawford  appeared,  and  we  got  a 
table,  and  ordered  some  supper.  There  is  a  dancing 


I  HEAR  SOME  THINGS  125 

floor  in  the  Schoolcraft  rose  room,  and  a  good  band. 
I  asked  her  to  dance,  when  the  band  began,  arid  she 
said  she'd  like  to.  I  hadn't  gone  once  the  length  of 
the  floor  with  her  until  I  realized  that  Dowd  is  right. 
She  can  dance.  We  had  another,  and  she  danced  with 
Dowd  once.  I'd  have  stayed  until  the  lights  went  out, 
but  she  suggested  going,  and  we  got  a  taxi-cab,  and 
took  her  home.  She  lives  on  Touschard  Avenue,  I  dis- 
covered, with  the  Pettingills.  Professor  Pettingill  is 
our  most  distinguished  economist.  He  wrote  a  book 
on  Practical  Economics  that  weighs  four  pounds. 

"Where  did  you  learn  so  much  about  politics,  Miss 
Crawford?"  I  asked  after  the  taxi  began  rattling  to 
its  destination. 

"Why,  I  have  been  in  politics  all  my  life.  My  father 
was  a  state  senator  for  several  terms  and  I  lived  at  the 
capital  with  him,  and  after  that  he  went  to  Congress 
for  six  years,  and  I  lived  in  Washington.  I  began 
to  absorb  politics  when  I  was  a  little  girl  and  have  been 
interested  in  it  ever  since.  Father  died  when  I  was 
twenty  and  I  struck  out  for  myself.  I  had  been  a 
sort  of  a  secretary  for  him  between  school  terms  in 
Washington,  and  had  learned  typewriting  and  stenog- 
raphy. I  took  some  special  studies  at  Bryn  Mawr, 
and  then  Governor  Plunkett  offered  me  a  position  with 
him.  I  stayed  there  until  his  term  was  ended,  in  Jan- 
uary, 1916,  and  after  that  went  with  the  State  Council 
for  Defense.  When  the  war  ended  I  came  here,  be- 
cause I  have  many  friends  here,  and  Mr.  Dowd  found 
me,  or  I  found  Mr.  Dowd.  Anyhow,  I  am  much  in- 
terested in  this  work,  and  that's  all  there  is  to  tell." 


126  HUNKINS 

"Isn't  she  a  corker?"  asked  Dowd,  as  she  ran  up 
the  steps  of  the  Pettingill  house. 

"She  sure  is!"  I  replied  with  a  fervor  that  made 
Dowd  turn  and  regard  me  interestedly. 


CHAPTER  XII 

I  ACCEPT  THE  NOMINATION 

GOING  to  see  Hunkins  to-day?"  Dad  asked 
me  at  breakfast. 
Yes,  sir." 
"What's  your  decision?" 

"I'll  take  it,  if  he  doesn't  make  any  conditions,  or 
try  to  tie  me  up  with  promises." 

"It  will  seem  odd  to  have  you  in  the  board.  I'm 
taking  it  for  granted  you  will  be  elected.  Know  any  of 
your  future  colleagues?" 

"I  was  on  a  committee  from  the  Country  Club  once 
that  had  a  meeting  with  Pendergrast  about  a  water 
extension  we  wanted." 

"How  did  he  strike  you?" 

"I  don't  remember  much  about  him." 

"Well,  you'll  know  plenty  a  year  from  now.  I've 
fussed  with  that  outfit,  off  and  on,  for  a  good  many 
years.  However,  there's  no  need  of  my  delineating 
those  statesmen  for  you.  You'll  have  a  chance  to  find 
them  out  first  hand.  What  do  you  think  of  Hun- 
kins?" 

"He  isn't  much  like  my  idea  of  a  political  boss." 

"Queer  fish,  Hunkins.  Worth  watching.  Well,  I've 
got  an  appointment  at  nine-thirty."  Dad  rose  and 
started  to  leave. 

127 


128  HUNKINS 

"Wait  a  minute,  Dad,"  I  said.  "What  do  you  think 
about  it?  Is  it  a  good  thing  to  do,  or  not?" 

"That  all  depends  on  you,  son.  You  can  be  useful, 
or  not,  as  you  choose.  You  are  going  into  an  atmos- 
phere of  small  politics,  and  of  the  most  practical  kind. 
It  may  be  a  good  starting  point,  or  it  may  not.  That 
is  up  to  you.  Certainly,  there  is  plenty  of  opportunity, 
and  a  big  enough  future.  Good  luck  I" 

It  seemed  to  me  that  Dad  is  rather  evasive.  How- 
ever, as  he  says,  it  is  up  to  me.  I  read  the  News  until 
ten  o'clock.  There  was  nothing  in  it  that  concerned 
me,  except  a  brief  paragraph  that  the  candidates  for 
the  vacancies  in  the  board  are  to  be  selected  to-day. 
At  ten  o'clock  I  called  Hunkins  on  the  telephone. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Hunkins.  This  is  Talbot 
speaking." 

"Good  morning,  Captain.  Are  you  coming  over 
to  see  me?" 

"Whenever  it  is  convenient." 

"Please  come  at  noon,  if  that  will  suit  you.  I  shall 
be  busy  until  that  time." 

Noon  suited  me,  and  I  was  at  No.  76  Martin  Street 
at  twelve,  exactly.  The  same  maid  showed  me  into  the 
room  that  was  lined  with  the  red  and  yellow  and  brown 
and  green  books.  A  few  minutes  later  I  heard  the 
outer  door  close,  and  Hunkins  appeared. 

"Good  morning  again,  Captain,"  he  said.  "Will 
you  come  into  my  private  retreat?" 

I  followed  him  to  the  inner  room,  and  sat  down  in 
the  solitary  chair  at  the  end  of  the  desk.  I  was  ner- 
vously apprehensive  over  the  meeting.  It  marked  a 
new  and  strange  step  for  me.  Hunkins  was  smiling 


I  ACCEPT  THE  NOMINATION        129 

and  affable.  He  lighted  a  cigarette,  fussed  with  some 
papers  on  his  desk,  as  if  giving  me  a  chance  to  get 
settled  into  the  environment,  and  then  turned  and 
asked : 

"Well,  Captain,  have  you  made  a  decision?" 

"I  have,  but  there  are  a  few  things  I  want  to  talk 
over  with  you  before  I  tell  you  what  it  is." 

"All  right.  For  instance?"  He  sat  down  in  his 
chair,  leaned  back  and  looked  at  me  attentively. 

"You  realize  that  this  is  rather  a  sensational  thing 
for  me  to  consider." 

"Sensational?  What  is  sensational  about  a  young 
man  of  your  standing  and  character  going  into  poli- 
tics, and  taking  a  place  in  the  Board  of  Aldermen?" 

"That's  just  it.  You  know  the  Board  of  Aldermen 
doesn't  stand  very  high  in  this  city,  isn't  respec- 
table  " 

"All  the  greater  virtue  then  in  our  endeavor  to  in- 
ject some  respectability  into  it,  don't  you  think?"  he 
interrupted,  smiling  at  me  reassuringly. 

"Maybe  so,  but  that  isn't  the  point." 

"That  seems  a  very  good  point  to  me,  but  perhaps 
I'm  obtuse.  What  is  the  point?" 

"That  there  must  be  some  reason  for  my  going  into- 
this  sort  of  a  thing."  , 

"Well,  isn't  there?  Surely,  you  are  not  going  into 
it  without  a  real  reason,  or  a  number  of  them.  You 
are  not  going  into  it  for  recreation,  or  as  a  new  form 
of  sport,  or  as  a  slumming  expedition,  or  anything 
like  that,  are  you?  Pardon  me,  I  am  not  trying  to 
forestall  your  conclusion." 


130  HUNKINS 

"I  mean  a  reason  on  your  part,"  I  blurted.  This 
suave  boss  was  gently  joshing  me,  I  thought. 

"On  my  part?  Why,  what  other  reason  do  you  need 
than  the  palpable  ones  that  there  is  a  vacancy  in  the 
board  from  your  ward,  that  I,  as  the  humble  instru- 
ment of  my  party,  offer  you  the  nomination  for  that 
vacancy.  Certainly,  I  would  not  make  the  offer  if  I 
did  not  consider  you  eminently  capable  of  taking  on 
the  duties  of  the  place,  and  imparting  distinction  there- 
to, I  may  add." 

"Thank  you,"  I  said,  with  such  irony  as  I  could 
command.  "But  I  wish  you  would  answer  my  ques- 
tion. Why  did  you  select  me  for  this  place?" 

"My  dear  Captain,  I  have  just  answered  that.  If 
you  think  there  is  anything  ulterior  in  my  offer  you 
misjudge  me." 

"Isn't  there?" 

"Not  a  thing." 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  are  not  obligating  me  in 
any  way  if  I  take  it,  not  asking  for  any  promises,  nor 
tying  any  strings  on  me?" 

"You've  been  reading  what  my  commentators  in  the 
daily  press  say  about  me.  Sometimes,  a  political  boss 
— the  designation  is  theirs,  not  mine — may  be  actuated 
by  perfectly  simple,  obvious  motives,  although  it  is 
very  hard  to  make  the  political  writers  understand 
that.  They  insist  on  his  being  Machiavellian  at  all 
times.  That  makes  their  copy  more  interesting.  Now, 
then,  if  you  want  this  nomination  you  can  have  it 
without  any  promise  of  any  kind  to  me,  without  any 
obligation  other  than  your  small  political  assessment, 
without  a  single  string  of  any  sort  tied  to  you.  Is  that 


I  ACCEPT  THE  NOMINATION         131 

straightforward  and  plain  enough  to  still  your 
qualms?" 

He  looked  at  me  squarely  and  spoke  sincerely.  I 
was  uncomfortable,  but  I  persisted. 

"It  seems  so,  but  how  am  I  to  know  it?" 

I  said  that  before  I  thought  how  it  would  sound. 
I  blushed  over  my  rudeness.  "Oh,"  I  stammered,  "I 
am  sorry — I  beg " 

He  laughed.  "Don't  mind  me,"  he  said.  "I  am  only 
a  so-called  boss,  and  naturally,  one  of  the  most  des- 
picable of  creatures.  I  realize,  perfectly,  what  your 
attitude  of  mind  is  towards  me.  That  attitude  of  mind 
in  you,  and  in  those  like  you,  comes,  largely,  from 
what  you  hear,  not  from  what  you  know.  However, 
I  accept  it  as  one  of  the  necessities  of  the  situation.  It 
doesn't  annoy  me.  It  amuses  me.  Perhaps,  if  we  are 
associated  your  view  may  change.  Possibly  not.  At 
any  rate,  let  us  get  back  to  the  res  gestae,  as  the  law- 
yers would  say.  You  want  to  know  how  you  are  to 
be  convinced  that  what  I  say  is  true?" 

"Not  at  all,"  I  protested.     "I  didn't " 

"Don't  make  any  excuses.  The  reputation  my 
friends  of  the  press  and  the  opposition  have  made 
for  me  justifies  your  doubt.  I  repeat,  if  you  take  this 
nomination,  as  I  hope  you  will,  you  are  not  obligated 
to  me  in  any  way,  personally,  or  politically,  except,  of 
course,  I  hope  that  you  will  vote  as  an  organization 
man  on  party  matters  if  any  come  up.  But  I  do  not 
ask  that  even.  You  are  entirely  untrammeled,  untied, 
unhampered  so  far  as  I  am  concerned.  I  cannot  make 
it  more  definite  than  that.  Is  that  satisfactory?" 

"Yes,  sir." 


i32  HUNKINS 

"Very  good.  We  are  now  on  a  basis  of  full  under- 
standing as  to  pledges.  Is  there  anything  else  ?" 

"Am  I  supposed  to  join  any  organization  or  any- 
thing like  that?" 

"Not  unless  you  want  to.  Of  course,  you  will  be 
expected  to  look  after  the  aldermanic  affairs  of  your 
ward,  as  well  as  take  your  share  of  the  general  com- 
mittee work,  and  there  will  be  ward  politics  of  one 
sort  and  another,  but  you'll  find  out  about  those  as 
you  go  along." 

I  had  a  dozen  things  to  ask  about  when  I  started 
to  meet  Hunkins,  but  I  couldn't  think  of  anything  more 
then.  So  I  said  nothing. 

"How  about  it?"  asked  Hunkins.     "Will  you  run?" 

"Yes." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  it.  You  will  be  assessed  one 
hundred  dollars  for  necessary  campaign  expenses.  The 
election  will  be  in  three  weeks.  You  won't  have  to 
make  a  campaign." 

"Why  not?" 

"I  understand  you  will  not  be  opposed  by  Pender- 
grast.  He  couldn't  win,  anyhow,  and  won't  try." 

"Suppose  he  does  put  up  somebody?" 

"Then  we'll  turn  in  and  beat  him." 

That  was  all  there  was  to  it,  except  some  talk  we/ 
had  about  various  details.  I  was  there  less  than  thirty 
minutes.  As  I  left  I  couldn't  resist  the  temptation  to 
make  one  more  trial  at  discovering  why  Hunkins  picked 
me  for  the  place. 

"I  wish  I  could  know,  Mr.  Hunkins,  just  why  you 
are  making  this  experiment  with  me." 

He  laughed.     "Can't  entirely  disabuse  your  mind 


I  ACCEPT  THE  NOMINATION        133 

that  there  is  a  catch  to  it,  can  you  ?  Well,  there  isn't. 
Any  mystery  that  shrouds  it  is  supplied  by  yourself. 
It's  a  straight,  open,  political  proposition  with  me.  I 
want  a  candidate.  You  fill  the  bill.  There  you  are. 
However,  if  that  doesn't  satisfy  you,  remember  what 
old  Don  Quixote  said:  'El  tiempo  es  el  descubridor 
de  todas  las  cosas.'  Do  you  know  Spanish?" 

"Only  a  few  cigar-box  phrases." 

"Well,  what  the  Don  had  in  mind  when  he  made 
that  remark  is  that  time  is  the  discoverer  of  all  things. 
Suppose  we  leave  it  on  that  basis.  I  shall  ask  you  to 
come  to  the  ward  committee  meeting  Monday  night, 
when  the  nomination  will  be  made.  I'll  attend  to  the 
newspapers.  The  reporters  will  be  here  this  after- 
noon. Good-by." 

I  walked  along  Martin  Street  in  a  dubious  frame 
of  mind.  A  queer  fish,  this  man  Hunkins.  Fancy  a 
political  boss  handing  me  Cervantes  in  the  original. 
I  can't  make  him  out. 

Mindful  of  Steve's  cautions  about  the  afternoon 
newspaper  reporters  I  secluded  myself  until  four 
o'clock,  and  then  went  down  to  Dowd's  office.  Dowd 
was  there,  and  Steve. 

"Well,"  I  said,  as  I  entered,  "I'm  a  regular  politi- 
cian now.  I'm  as  good  as  elected  to  the  Board  of 
Aldermen,  Hunkins  tells  me." 

"Had  your  talk?"  asked  Dowd. 

"Yes;  had  it  at  noon." 

"Did  he  try  any  funny  business?" 

"Not  a  thing.  He  explicitly  says  he  asks  no  pledges 
nor  promises  and  holds  me  under  no  obligation  of 
any  kind  except  he  hopes  I  will  vote  with  the  organi- 


134  HUNK-INS 

zation  on  party  matters,  and  wants  me  to  give  the 
Ward  Committee  a  hundred-dollar  contribution." 

"That's  a  wide-open  and  comparatively  inexpensive 
programme,"  commented  Steve. 

,  "What's  he  driving  at?"  asked  Dowd,  half  to  him- 
self, half  to  us.  "I  can't  figure  it.  Something  in  his 
mind,  that's  sure  enough.  However,  sufficient  unto 
the  day  is  the  nomination  thereof.  Going  to  see  Hun- 
kins  to-night,  Steve?" 

"Yes." 

"Sound  him  a  little,  will  you?  It's  a  mystery  to  me, 
but  I'm  glad  it  happened.  Interesting  man,  isn't  he, 
Talbot?" 

"He  certainly  is,  and  educated,  too.  He  threw  some 
Spanish  at  me  as  I  left." 

"Spanish  ?"  said  Steve.  "He  usually  hands  out  Hor- 
ace. He's  a  bug  about  Horace." 

"Well,  anyhow,  he's  perfectly  open  and  above  board 
with  me  in  his  talk,  and  I've  accepted,  on  the  theory 
that  I  can  take  care  of  myself,  or  if  I  can't  I  deserve 
whatever  I  get." 

"Good  platform,"  observed  Dowd.  "Is  there  to  be 
any  campaign?" 

"Hunkins  doesn't  think  so.  He  says  Pendergrast 
will  not  nominate,  as  he  understands  it,  but  if  he  does 
we'll  go  in  and  lick  him." 

"He  won't,"  said  Steve.    "Pendergrast  told  me." 

"I'm  sorry,"  Dowd  observed.  "We  might  have 
stirred  things  up  a  bit.  Oh,  well,  it's  all  right.  We 
can  begin  stirring  when  you  get  on  the  board.  Know 
any  of  those  birds  you  will  associate  with?" 

"Not  one  of  them." 


I  ACCEPT  THE  NOMINATION         135 

"Your  impressions  will  be  interesting." 

"Why?    Are  they  such  frightful  highbinders?" 

"How  about  it,  Steve?"  asked  Dowd. 

"They  are  an  average  lot  of  ward  politicians," 
Steve  replied,  "except  one  or  two.  Cass  is  a  high-class 
man,  and  so  is  Braden.  The  rest  of  them  are  ordinary. 
They  are  entirely  dominated  by  Hunkins  and  Pender- 
grast  except  one  wild  Irishman  named  Kilmany,  who  is 
strong  enough  in  the  Thirteenth  Ward  to  elect  him- 
self despite  their  opposition.  Kilmany  runs  amuck 
whenever  he  feels  liverish,  and  raises  hell.  He  fur- 
nishes most  of  the  copy,  outside  the  routine,  that  is 
written  about  their  meetings.  Better  tie  up  with  him, 
George.  He's  erratic,  but  he's  straight.  Pendergrast 
is  the  operating  member.  He  sits  in  the  board.  Hun- 
kins  deals  from  his  room  in  Martin  Street.  He  never 
is  seen  in  the  City  Hall.  It's  an  interesting  game,  and 
you'll  have  a  lot  of  fun  with  it.  Also,  that  gang  legis- 
lates for  the  city,  and  have  their  importance." 

"Is  it  as  rotten  as  they  say  it  is  in  campaign  times?" 
I  asked. 

"No;  nothing  is.  There  may  be  some  grafting  in 
the  matter  of  school-sites,  and  fire-house  sites,  and 
street  extensions  and  paving,  and  so  on,  but  not  half 
as  much  as  the  outs  claim  there  is.  By  and  large,  it 
isn't  so  bad;  only,  it's  strictly  political  when  it  ought 
to  be  strictly  civic.  Still,  there  is  large  room  for  im- 
provement, both  there,  and  in  the  executive  end  of 
the  City  Hall." 

"Have  at  it,"  exclaimed  Dowd,  "and  now  let's  go 
somewhere  where  we  can  find  the  makings  of  a  toast 
to  the  new  member." 


136  HUNKINS 

We  found  a  place,  and  made  three  toasts  instead  of 
one.  Next  morning  I  got  up  early  and  sent  out  for 
a  News.  There  it  was,  a  half  column  of  it,  written 
in  Steve's  friendliest  vein.  I  read  it  six  times,  each 
time  with  increasing  interest  and  a  refreshed  sense  of 
importance.  After  the  sixth  reading  I  saw  myself 
nothing  less  than  mayor,  and  didn't  think  the  govern- 
orship so  far  off  as  it  might  be.  Steve  touched  up 
all  the  high  lights. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  BEEFSTEAK  PARTY 

i 

I  SPENT  most  of  the  day  listening  to  telephonic 
congratulations  and  commiserations,  in  the 
ratio  of  about  ten  commiserations  to  one  con- 
gratulation. At  first,  I  thought  I  would  not 
answer,  but  I  decided  that  I  might  as  well  get  a  con- 
sensus of  the  opinion  of  my  friends,  and  that  is  what  I 
obtained.  The  consensus  of  opinion,  as  I  gather  it, 
is  that  John  J.  Talbot  should  lose  no  time  in  institut- 
ing proceedings  de  lunatico  inquirendo  over  his  only 
son,  Captain  George  Talbot,  late  of  the  United  States 
Army.  A  few  suggested  shell  shock  as  a  contributing 
factor  to  my  departure  from  the  path  of  reason,  in  a 
decorously  solicitous  and  sympathetic  manner,  hoping 
it  is  not  as  bad  as  it  seems.  The  surmises  as  to  whys 
and  wherefores  ranged  from  that  heroic  disaster  to  my 
mentality  to  an  insinuation  of  congenital  idiocy  con- 
tributed by  Fred  Daskin. 

Miss  Crawford  did  not  telephone,  but  Miss  Harrow 
did.  She  was  one  of  my  few  congratulators.  She  was 
glad  to  observe  that  one  member  of  my  highly-over- 
rated sex  had  spunk  enough  to  do  something  positive, 
and  she  wished  me  well.  I  was  hoping  Miss  Crawford 
would  call.  That's  one  reason  why  I  didn't  silence 
the  telephone  by  taking  off  the  receiver.  Dad  wasn't 
home.  He  left  for  New  York  at  midnight. 


138  HUNKINS 

"How  are  they  coming?"  Dowd  asked  me  late  in  the 
afternoon,  just  as  I  was  about  to  quit  and  call  it  a  day. 

"A  heavy  barrage  has  been  laid  down  since  morn- 
ing," I  answered.  "Including  high  explosives,  shrap- 
nel and  gas.  No  casualties  as  yet.  However,  it  has 
been  rather  pointedly  intimated  to  me  that  if  I  per- 
sist I  shall  become  a  pariah  so  far  as  the  higher  society 
of  our  city  is  concerned." 

"Buck  up,"  said  Dowd.  "I'd  rather  be  a  pariah 
than  a  Pharisee." 

"It's  not  worrying  me,"  I  asserted,  jauntily.  It 
was,  just  the  same.  I  felt  a  good  deal  like  a  cross 
between  a  fool  and  a  fanatic.  My  friends  were  ex- 
tremely candid  in  their  conversations  and  conclusions. 

"Don't  let  it,"  Dowd  advised.  "We'll  put  the  bee 
on  that  whole  bunch  before  we  get  through  with  this." 

Hunkins  asked  me  to  come  to  a  cigar  store  on  Grant 
Street,  in  the  upper  and  least  fashionable  end  of  our 
ward,  at  eight  o'clock  on  Monday  night.  He  was  there 
when  I  arrived  and  five  others  in  a  room  behind  the 
store.  He  presented  me  to  the  five  others,  who  are, 
I  learned,  the  Ward  Committee — Messrs.  Warnock, 
Parks,  Shultz,  Kelly  and  Armstrong. 

"How' do,"  said  Warnock,  the  chairman.  "Pleased 
t'meet  cha."  The  others  said  identically  the  same 
thing,  shaking  hands  stiffly,  in  their  turns.  They  were 
none  too  cordial.  I  looked  them  over.  Warnock  runs 
the  cigar  store  and,  also,  sells  newspapers  and  maga- 
zines. He  is  tall,  slim,  furtive  and  suspicious.  Parks 
is  a  little,  fussy  man,  truculent  like  all  little  men.  Shultz 
is  a  butcher,  and  looks  it.  Kelly  has  a  coal  and  wood 


THE  BEEFSTEAK  PARTY  139 

yard  and  Armstrong  is  one  of  those  city  factotums — 
notary,  insurance  agent,  and  so  on. 

"Come  t'  order,"  demanded  Warnock,  rapping 
on  the  green-covered  table.  "Object  meetin's  t'  nom- 
'nate  candidate  for  vacancy  Board  of  Aldermen. 
Nom'nations  s'in  order." 

"I  nom'nate  this  here  guy — what's  his  name?"  Kelly 
turned  to  Hunkins. 

"Captain  George  Talbot,"  Hunkins  instructed, 
gravely. 

"Sure;  I  forgot;  Cap'n  George  Talbot." 

"Seckind  it,"  snapped  Parks. 

"Any  other  nom'nations?"  asked  Warnock.  "If 
not  question's  s'on  nom'nation  made.  All'n  favor 
nom'nation  Captain  George  Talbot  say  aye;  contrary, 
no;  ayes  have  it;  Captain  George  Talbot  duly  nom'- 
nated  for  member  Board  Aldermen,  Second  Ward. 
Motion  t'adjourn  s'in  order;  moved'n  seconded  we  ad- 
journ; carried." 

He  hit  the  table  a  whack  with  his  fist  and  turned  to 
Hunkins:  "S'all-right,  boss.  Deed's  done." 

"Thank  you,  gentlemen,"  said  Hunkins.  "I  am  sure 
Captain  Talbot  will  be  a  most  valuable  alderman  from 
your  ward." 

I  shook  hands  all  around  again,  and  thanked  them. 
Then,  after  Hunkins  got  a  copy  of  the  proceedings  duly 
attested  by  Warnock  and  Parks,  the  secretary,  we  left 
together. 

"Not  much  class  to  that  outfit,"  I  remarked,  as  we 
walked  to  the  corner  where  I  had  my  car. 

"Very  little,"  Hunkins  replied,  "but  they're  the  best 
we  can  get.  What  do  you  suppose  your  friends  in  this 


140  HUNKINS 

ward — any  of  them — would  say  if  asked  to  serve  on 
the  ward  committee?  You  needn't  tell  me  for  I  know. 
I've  tried  to  induce  them.  A  ward  committee  is  an 
important  unit  in  a  party's  political  organization,  but 
men  like  the  majority  of  the  residents  of  this  ward 
— business  men  and  professional  men — rich  men — 
consider  such  service  beneath  them.  They  howl  about 
heeler-domination  of  politics,  and  refuse  to  offer  the 
slightest  help  towards  better  representation.  We  have 
to  take  those  we  can  get.  Damn  these  Pharisees  who 
rail  at  rotten  politics  and  will  do  nothing  to  help  purify 
it  I  They  deserve  all  they  have  handed  to  them." 

That  was  the  first  time  in  my  presence  Hunkins 
was  other  than  the  suave  and  ironical  leader.  I  looked 
at  him  in  surprise. 

"Excuse  me,"  he  said,  "but  those  are  my  sentiments. 
I  am  not  aspersing  your  friends,  individually,  but  speak- 
ing of  the  type." 

"Don't  spare  them  on  my  account,"  I  told  him. 
"You  won't  hurt  my  feelings.  A  lot  of  them  called 
me  up  yesterday." 

"I  thought  they  would,"  said  Hunkins.  "I  know 
them." 

Hunkins  was  right.  The  opposition  made  no  nomi- 
nation. The  newspapers  paid  scant  attention  to  this 
important  event  in  politics.  Steve  Fox  printed  two 
or  three  short  and  friendly  items ;  the  opposition  papers 
had  a  facetious  paragraph  or  two  about  the  Silk  Stock- 
ing Ward  being  indubitably  affected  by  the  high  cost 
of  living,  because  this  new  nominee  cannot,  possibly,  be 
considered  more  than  a  silk  sock,  if  that;  and  that  is 
all  there  was  to  it.  The  fellows  at  the  club,  beyond 


THE  BEEFSTEAK  PARTY  141 

asking  me  how  much  I  am  paying  for  votes,  and  a  few 
things  like  that,  passed  the  matter  over  as  of  no  im- 
portance. Indeed,  the  entire  city  took  it  so  calmly 
that  I  suffered  considerable  curtailment  of  conceit  over 
my  prodigious  resolve  and  patriotic  enterprise.  Elec- 
tion day  came,  and  only  about  a  hundred  votes  were 
cast,  but  that  night  Hunkins  called  me  up  and  said: 

"Congratulations.  It's  unanimous.  I  suggest  that 
you  go  to  the  City  Hall  to-morrow  and  swear  in,  and 
good  luck  to  you." 

I  took  the  oath  of  office,  and  attended  my  first  meet- 
ing of  the  board  on  the  following  Monday  night. 
Meantime,  J.  J.  Cornwell,  president  of  the  board,  in- 
formed me  that  I  am  to  serve  on  the  Schools  Com- 
mittee, and  the  Streets  Committee.  "Two  of  the  most 
important  committees,"  Steve  Fox  commented  when  I 
told  him  about  my  assignments.  "Bill  Hunkins  is 
looking  out  for  you,  all  right." 

I  spent  the  next  month  reading  the  city  charter, 
familiarizing  myself  with  procedure,  and  in  sitting  in 
and  saying  nothing,  but  listening  hard,  at  committee 
meetings.  I  soon  discovered  that  the  Monday  night 
meetings  of  the  board  are  but  ratification  meetings,  to 
put  over  publicly  what  has  been  decided  upon  pri- 
vately. I  heard  the  bitterest  sort  of  partisan  speeches 
on  the  floor  of  the  aldermanic  chamber,  and  saw 
scenes  that  I  thought  would  develop  into  fist  fights 
between  explosive  partisans  of  one  ordinance  or  an- 
other; but  learned  that  these  are  only  a  part  of  the 
show.  They  mean  nothing,  because  on  each  Monday 
afternoon  Tom  Pendergrast  and  J.  J.  Cornwell  have 
a  meeting  in  the  room  on  the  second  floor  over  Corn- 


well's  saloon,  at  the  corner  of  First  and  Arnold  Streets, 
and  lay  out  the  programme  for  each  Monday  night 
meeting. 

There  is  a  perfect  working  arrangement.  Control 
of  the  board  shifts  between  the  two  parties  at  regu- 
lar intervals.  That  is,  for  a  certain  specified  time  one 
side  has  a  majority,  and  for  a  certain  following  and 
specified  time  the  control  rests  with  the  other  side. 
That  distributes  patronage  on  an  equal  basis.  Also 
under  the  direction  of  Pendergrast,  and,  I  assume, 
Hunkins,  a  majority  can  be  secured  for  any  project 
that  is  desirable  to  them.  The  members  vote  as  they 
are  told.  I  heard  nothing  from  Hunkins,  and  saw  him 
but  once  or  twice.  I  vote  with  my  party,  when  there 
is  a  party  division,  and  take  whatever  stand  I  think 
best  on  other  matters.  My  colleagues  are  cordial 
enough,  but  evidently  look  on  me  somewhat  suspi- 
ciously. I  am  not  yet  in  the  gang. 

There  are  nineteen  members  of  our  board  of  alder- 
men, and  fourteen  of  these  are  typical  city  politicians, 
mostly  business  men  in  their  wards,  or  saloon-keepers. 
There  are  two  butchers,  a  druggist,  a  grocer,  and  so 
on.  Cornwell,  the  president,  runs  a  saloon,  and  I  hear 
that  Pendergrast  owns  one — Paddy  Rattigan's  in  West 
Monmouth  Street — but  does  not  appear  as  owner. 
The  five  outsiders  are  Kilmany,  the  Irishman  from  the 
Thirteenth  Steve  Fox  told  me  about;  a  mystified  pro- 
fessor in  the  college  who  deemed  it  his  duty  to  serve 
the  city,  was  elected  by  some  fluke  and  spends  all  his 
time  trying  to  get  an  eugenic  ordinance  passed;  Cass, 
who  runs  a  sash-and-blind  factory  in  the  Nineteenth 
Ward;  Braden,  who  is  a  grain  man,  and  myself.  Cass 


THE  BEEFSTEAK  PARTY  143 

and  Braden  are  good,  substantial  business  men,  and 
I  am  cultivating  them. 

The  others  are  friendly  enough  in  their  way,  fond 
of  high-colored  jokes  and  stories,  given  to  practical 
joking  among  themselves,  and  liberal  spenders  at  the 
bars.  They  are  experts  at  rough  badinage  that  they 
call  "kiddin',"  and  apply  the  most  obscene  and  offen- 
sive epithets  to  one  another  in  the  most  casual  manner. 
They  like  to  foregather  in  back  rooms  of  saloons  and 
play  forty-fives  or  pinochle,  and  every  one  of  them  is 
ready  to  bet  on  any  proposition  that  comes  along. 
Indeed,  their  favorite  argument  is  "I  betcha,"  and 
they  will  bet,  too,  in  good  sized  amounts.  They  have 
the  most  naive  idea  of  civic  responsibility,  considering 
it  entirely  a  matter  of  party  politics,  but  they  fight 
for  the  ultimate  dollar,  and  the  final  curbstone  for 
improvements  in  their  wards,  and  look  out  for  their 
constituents  and  the  rights  of  them  jealously. 

This  is  the  atmosphere  of  my  new  situation  in  life. 
It  does  not  jar  me  much.  I  was  in  the  Army  for  eigh- 
teen months,  among  men  peeled  down  to  the  raw.  I 
keep  busy,  circulating  among  the  city  departments  and 
talking  with  their  heads.  The  mayor  is  Hiram  G. 
Spearle,  a  Pendergrast  man.  Indeed,  the  entire  city 
administration  is  Pendergrastic.  My  most  illuminat- 
ing discovery  is  this :  The  fights  for  the  mayoralty  are 
generally  real  fights,  although  there  have  been  times 
when  combinations  were  made.  That  is,  the  two  bosses 
select  their  candidates  and  go  to  it.  The  one  who,  be- 
cause of  any  given  set  of  circumstances,  gets  the  most 
votes  holds  rigidly  to  partisanship  in  his  appointments 


144  HUNKINS 

and  projects,  but  there  is  always  an  understanding  over 
perquisites. 

If  Hunkins  wins  Pendergrast  does  not  entirely  lose, 
for  there  is  a  sort  of  a  working  agreement,  on  the 
routine  matters,  between  the  two;  and  so  if  Pender- 
grast wins.  The  primaries  and  elections  are  usually 
fought  out  with  each  side  trying  to  win.  Normally, 
the  city  is  anti-Pendergrast,  but  now  and  then  there 
are  local  issues  that  turn  out  the  majority  officials, 
and  put  in  representatives  of  the  Pendergrast  minority. 
Spearle  is  mayor  now,  for  example,  because  of  a  wage- 
and-hours  labor  trouble  that  was  skillfully  developed 
into  a  party  issue  by  the  Pendergrast  strategists,  who 
successfully  maintained  the  claim  that  it  was  a  party 
matter  because  most  of  the  arbitrary  employers  are 
more  or  less  identified  with  the  Hunkins  organization, 
not  as  members,  but  as  supporters.  It  was  a  far  cry, 
but  it  worked. 

The  thing  that  interests  me  most  is  the  uncanny  ex- 
pertness  of  the  minor  city  officials  in  city  affairs.  They 
have  it  all  pat.  They  know  the  charter,  know  the 
ordinances,  know  the  procedures,  know  the  figures. 
The  city  clerk  is  an  amazing  fellow.  He  is  a  round 
and  oily  person  named  Charley  Elmer,  and  his  job  is 
in  perpetuity,  for  he  is  the  guide,  handy  man,  and  en- 
cyclopedia for  the  other  city  officials.  He  knows  every- 
thing, and  as  he  is  oleaginously  amenable  to  instruc- 
tions from  whatever  boss  may  be  in  power  he  stays 
on  through  administration  after  administration.  When 
asked  what  his  politics  is  he  always  replies,  unctuously: 
"I  belong  to  the  Elmer  party." 

"I  wonder  if  we  might  not  have  a  better  city  admin- 


THE  BEEFSTEAK  PARTY  145 

istration  if  the  business  men  of  the  city,  and  the  pro- 
fessional men,  would  go  to  the  pains  of  finding  out 
as  much  about  the  city  and  its  workings  as  these  politi- 
cians find  out,"  I  said  to  Dowd  one  day. 

"You  wonder,"  Dowd  replied.  "You  know  we 
would,  but  that's  a  Utopian  idea.  How  can  you  ex- 
pect the  bulk  of  these  fellows  to  be  interested  in  any- 
thing but  getting  rich.  Isn't  money  the  criterion  of 
success  in  these  United  States.  There  are  no  large  for- 
tunes to  be  made  in  city  administration.  That's  the 
answer." 

I  reached  real  terms  of  acquaintance  with  my  col- 
leagues when  the  member  from  the  Seventh,  Rudolph 
Shultz,  gave  a  beefsteak  party  at  his  place  in  the  coun- 
try. Rudolph  is  a  butcher,  big,  red-faced,  and  Ger- 
man. He  has  lived  in  this  country  for  thirty  years,  and 
is  as  American  as  any  of  us;  a  burly,  jolly,  slow-think- 
ing, but  hard-headed  citizen.  Rudolph  has  a  way  with 
him  when  it  comes  to  handling  beefsteaks  that  I  had 
heard  about.  Once  a  year  he  gives  a  big  party,  to 
which  the  city  officials,  and  outside  politicians,  and 
the  political  reporters  all  go.  This  party,  I  discovered, 
is  to  be  more  recherche.  None  but  the  aldermen,  Hun- 
kins,  and  one  or  two  others  will  participate. 

We  drove  out  about  noon  and  found  Rudolph  busy 
with  his  steaks.  He  had  these  steaks  in  preparation 
for  the  event.  They  were  especially  selected  by  him- 
self, especially  cut,  and  hung  for  just  the  right  period. 
He  was  in  his  kitchen,  with  a  big  apron  on,  his  sleeves 
rolled  up,  two  aproned  young  fellows  as  assistants,  and 
surrounded  by  slabs  of  the  best-looking  beef  I  ever  sawt 

"Better  go  out  and  watch  him,"  advised  Hunkins, 


i46  HUNKINS 

"if  you  have  never  seen  him  work.     It's  interesting.'* 

I  went  out,  and  was  greeted  explosively  by  Rudolph : 

"Well,  young  feller,  you  won't  get  no  grub  in  the 
Union  Club  like  this,  hey?" 

"Probably  not,"  I  said,  and  took  a  stand  near  him. 

There  was  a  big  pot  on  the  range,  from  which  there 
came  clouds  of  steam,  and  a  most  savory  odor. 
"That's  the  Brunswick  stew,"  Rudolph  told  me.  "I 
make  him  from  what  I  trim  off  the  steaks  and  a  few 
other  things  put  in.  We  eat  him  before  I  put  the  steaks 
on  the  fire,  just  to  get  up  an  appetite." 

He  fussed  with  his  stew,  and  presently  bellowed: 
"Stew's  ready!  Come  and  get  it!" 

Each  guest  came  into  the  kitchen  with  a  pannikin, 
and  Rudolph  ladled  each  pannikin  full  of  the  stew, 
which  was  a  reddish-brown  concoction,  and  smelled 
most  amazingly  good.  I  took  a  pannikin,  and  got 
mine.  We  went  into  the  dining  room,  where  we  found 
bread,  butter,  radishes,  and  celery  on  the  table.  "You 
hurry  and  eat  him,"  Rudolph  cautioned,  "and  come 
back  here  and  I  show  you  how  to  cook  steak." 

I  hurried,  but  the  stew  was  so  good  that  I  went 
back  for  more.  "Hey,  young  feller,"  said  Rudolph. 
"You  like  him.  Well,  save  some  room  for  steak." 

After  I  finished,  and  the  other  guests  were  mostly 
ranged  about  three  poker  tables,  I  went  out  to  the 
kitchen  again.  Rudolph  was  ready  to  cook  his  steaks. 
He  had  them  in  a  row  on  the  table,  each  on  a  piece 
of  oiled  paper.  He  patted  them  lovingly.  "No  beef 
like  that  nearer  than  Chicago,"  he  said.  "I  spent  a 
long  time  picking  them  steaks." 

There  was  a  large  pan  of  what  looked  to  be  wet 


THE  BEEFSTEAK  PARTY  147 

salt  on  the  end  of  the  table,  a  great  plate  of  golden 
butter,  with  pepper  and  other  shakers,  and  big  carv- 
ing knives,  and  spoons  and  sharpening  steels. 

"What's  that?"  I  asked,  pointing  to  the  pan. 

"Salt,"  said  Rudolph.    "You  watch." 

One  of  the  assistants  had  another  big  pan  of  salt 
under  the  faucet  at  the  sink  and  was  carefully  dampen- 
ing it,  letting  water  run  on  it  and  mixing  the  water 
through  the  salt. 

"Now,  then,"  said  Rudolph.     "Here  we  go." 

He  ministered  to  the  steaks  variously  with  the  but- 
ter, the  pepper  and  some  of  the  other  shakers.  Then 
he  took  a  large  broiler,  made  of  heavy  wire,  and  opened 
it  flat  on  the  table.  On  the  under  side  of  the  broiler 
he  spread  a  piece  of  waxed  paper.  Then  he  took 
great  handfuls  of  the  wet  salt,  and  made  a  layer  of 
it  nearly  three  inches  thick  covering  the  oiled  paper 
evenly  over  all  its  surface.  That  layer  patted  into 
smoothness  and  the  proper  depth,  Rudolph  selected 
a  steak  and  laid  the  steak  on  the  salt.  Then  he  covered 
the  steak  with  salt,  to  the  depth  of  another  three  inches, 
packed  salt  around  the  sides  until  the  steak  was  com- 
pletely encased  in  this  packing  of  salt,  put  another 
piece  of  oiled  paper  on  top,  closed  and  fastened  the 
top  side  of  the  broiler  over  that  and  carried  the  broiler 
to  the  fire.  He  had  a  deep  bed  of  glowing  charcoal, 
and  he  carefully  adjusted  the  broiler  over  that  bed.  He 
came  back  to  the  table  and  began  to  prepare  another 
steak  in  the  same  way. 

"Won't  it  be  too  salt?"  I  asked. 

"You  wait,"  said  Rudolph. 

I  waited,  and  watched  him  prepare  several  other 


148  HUNKINS 

steaks  the  same  way.  Meantime,  the  oiled  paper  had 
burned  away  on  the  first  steak  and  the  salt  was  baking 
into  a  hard  mass.  Rudolph  tested  this  from  time  to 
time,  felt  the  heat,  and  solidity  of  it.  "When  she's 
just  right  then  I  take  him  off,"  he  told  me.  One  of 
the  assistants  cut  great  loaves  of  bread  into  slices  about 
three  inches  by  two,  and  the  other  filled  pewter  mugs 
with  ale. 

Presently,  Rudolph's  investigations  of  the  gleaming 
mass  of  salt  in  the  broiler  satisfied  him  that  the  time 
was  at  hand  for  further  action.  He  had  prodded  often, 
and  felt  the  heat  with  moistened  finger  tip.  The  salt 
had  taken  on  a  baked,  almost  annealed,  glisten.  It 
was  hard  and  hot.  Rudolph  took  the  broiler  from 
the  fire,  and  carried  it  to  the  table.  He  lifted  the 
upper  half  of  the  broiler,  hit  the  hardened  salt  two 
or  three  raps  with  a  hammer,  and  the  shell  of  it  broke 
away,  exposing  the  steak  within,  as  the  broken  matrix 
displays  the  glowing  opal. 

That  is  what  it  called  to  my  mind — a  matrix  half 
removed  from  a  gem,  for  that  steak  was  a  gem — a 
jewel  of  radiant  ray.  It  lay  there,  steaming,  scenting 
the  air  of  the  kitchen  with  its  fragrance,  all  reds  and 
browns  and  reddish-grays,  with  the  juice  oozing  from 
it,  and  the  savor  of  it  already  on  the  palate. 

"There,"  said  Rudolph,  after  close  inspection.- 
"She's  all  right.  Get  yourself  a  chunk  of  bread." 

I  took  a  piece  of  bread,  and  Rudolph  carved  a  small 
slice  of  the  steak  and  laid  it  on  the  bread.  The  juice 
seeped  into  the  bread,  staining  it  a  pale  red.  I  bit 
into  it.  That  taste  was  the  ultimate  of  my  carnivorous 


THE  BEEFSTEAK  PARTY  149 

experience.     It  was  the  most  delicious  morsel  of  meat 
I  ever  tasted.     I  reached  for  another  bit  of  bread. 

"Hah,"  laughed  Rudolph.     "Not  too  salt,  hey?" 

Another  steak  was  cooking  while  Rudolph  carved 
this  one  into  small  slices.  The  assistants  hustled  the 
platters  of  bread,  and  the  mugs  of  ale  into  the  dining 
room. 

"Hi,  there,  you  gamblers!"   Rudolph  shouted  to 
the  poker  players.     "She's  ready!     Come   and  get 
him!" 

Cards  were  dropped  instantly,  and  the  guests  moved 
to  the  table  noisily.  Rudolph  came  in  carrying  the  first 
installment  of  the  steak,  on  a  platter,  the  slices  of  it 
half  submerged  in  the  juices.  There  were  forks,  but 
none  was  used.  We  had  fingers.  Each  man  took  a 
bit  of  the  steak,  laid  it  on  bread,  and  devoured  the 
combination.  Rudolph  sent  in  platter  after  platter  of 
the  slices,  and,  towards  the  end,  came  in  with  especial 
tidbits  which  he  urged  on  Hunkins  and  myself  and 
one  or  two  others — sections  of  bone  with  shreds  of 
the  succulent  meat  on  them,  and  slices  of  the  tenderest 
portions. 

"I  figure  on  getting  away  with  about  four  pounds 
at  one  of  these  affairs,"  Kilmany  said  to  me,  and  re- 
cited the  epic  of  Tom  Dorgan,  who  ate  seven  and  a 
half  pounds  once,  on  a  bet.  Tom  has  now  passed  to 
his  reward,  but  his  memory  as  a  trencherman  remains 
gloriously  green. 

Personally,  I  do  not  think  Kilmany  had  any  the 
better  of  me  in  the  matter  of  consumption  tonnage. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

RUDOLPH  PLAYS  POKER 

WHEN  every  man  was  to  his    capacity  of 
steak,   the   poker   tables    became    active 
again.    "Want  to  sit  in?"  they  asked  me. 
"Not  just  yet,"    I   told  them.     "I'll 
look  on  for  a  time." 

"Don't  blame  you,"  said  Hunkins.  "Most  of  these 
pirates  play  them  very  close  to  their  chests.  Better 
pick  out  a  soft  spot,  if  you  can  find  one,  before  you 
buy  chips." 

I  moved  from  table  to  table,  watching  the  play. 
There  was  a  two-dollar  limit  game,  all  jack  pots,  with 
roodles  when  a  full  house  or  better  was  called  that 
raised  the  limit  to  four  dollars  for  a  round.  There 
was  a  dollar-limit  game,  with  deuces  and  joker  wild, 
where  they  played  hop-ups,  kilters,  straights  around 
the  corner,  big  Dick,  and  other  complicated  combina- 
tions, and  dealt  a  hand  of  cyclone  each  seventh  deal 
— seven-card  stud  poker  with  two  cards  buried.  That 
was  too  fast  for  me,  even  if  it  was  only  a  dollar-limit 
game,  for  threes  and  small  fulls  were  mere  chaff ;  and 
although  the  limit  was  but  a  dollar,  they  bet  wildly, 
amid  all  sorts  of  excitement,  quarrels  and  side  wagers. 
The  big  game  was  the  third  one,  table  stakes.  Hun- 

150 


RUDOLPH  PLAYS  POKER  151 

kins,  Cass,  Tompkins,  Cornwell,  and  Pendergrast  were 
in  this.  They  played  straight  poker,  with  no  frills  or 
innovations,  and  I  settled  down  to  look  on.  My  in- 
clination was  to  buy  a  stack  in  the  two-dollar  game, 
but  I  thought  I'd  assay  the  table-stake  contest  first. 
That  might  be  worth  a  trial.  They  are  all  good,  cold, 
nervy  poker  players,  but  friendly.  A  lot  of  joshing 
went  back  and  forth  across  the  table.  Hunkins  and 
Cass  are  conservative,  calculating  players,  and  Tomp- 
kins  and  Pendergrast  liberal  with  a  tendency  to  bluff. 
Cornwell  has  them  before  he  bets  them. 

"Ought  to  be  six  in  this,"  said  Cass.  "Where's 
Rudolph?" 

"Outside,"  Cornwell  replied. 

"Hey,  Rudolph,  come  here !"  Cass  shouted. 

Rudolph  came  ponderously  in,  smoking  a  big  cigar, 
his  face  redder  than  usual  from  the  heat  of  the  stove, 
still  wearing  his  apron,  and  highly  pleased  over  the 
success  of  his  party. 

"What  is?"  asked  Rudolph. 

"Got  any  money?" 

"Haf  I  got  any  money?"  Rudolph  repeated.  "I  got 
more  than  you  ever  see.  Here.  Look." 

He  put  a  great  paw  into  his  trousers  pocket  and 
brought  out  a  roll  of  yellow-backed  bills  with  a  rubber 
band  around  it.  "Haf  I  got  any  money?"  he  asked, 
waving  his  roll  about.  "I  haf  got  money  that  is  to 
burn." 

"How  much?" 

"Never  mind  how  mucK.     More  than  you." 

"Well,  get  in  here,  then,  and  pretty  soon  you  won't 
have  so  much.  Take  a  seat." 


152  HUNKINS 

"I'll  show  you,"  protested  Rudolph,  and  he  shoved 
a  chair  in.  "What's  the  game?" 

"Table  stakes." 

Rudolph  slapped  his  roll  of  money  on  the  table. 
"I'll  play  that,"  he  said. 

"For  the  love  of  Mike,  Rudolph!"  protested  Cass. 
"This  is  a  friendly  game.  Be  decent.  Take  a  couple 
of  stacks  of  blues  and  play  like  a  gentleman,  not  like 
a  gambler." 

"Hah,"  taunted  Rudolph,  "you  afraid,  hey?  Too 
much  money  for  you  tin-horns,  ain't  it?  All  or  not 
any.  What  you  say?" 

"How  much  in  that  roll?"  demanded  Cass. 

"A  t'ousand  dollars." 

"Let  him  in,"  said  Tompkins,  "and  we'll  trim  that 
upholstery  off  the  big  Dutchman." 

"Go  ahead,"  assented  Rudolph.  "You're  welcome 
if  you  can  get  it." 

I  could  see  a  tightening  up  as  soon  as  this  big  wad 
of  money  was  declared  in,  and  I  moved  closer  to  watch 
the  play.  Rudolph  was  jovially  and  expansively  full 
of  his  own  ale,  and  he  went  into  every  pot  that  came 
along.  Cards  were  running  poorly,  and  nobody  won 
or  lost  must,  although  Rudolph  boosted  out  several 
hands  that  were  better  than  his  own.  After  half  an 
hour  or  so  of  see-sawing,  Rudolph  was  called  to  the 
kitchen  to  superintend  the  tapping  of  another  keg  of 
ale. 

"Look  here,"  said  Tompkins,  after  Rudolph  left, 
"let's  teach  that  big  butcher  a  lesson.  He's  wallowed 
in  here  and  is  balling  the  game  all  up  with  his  mess 
of  money.  I  haven't  got  enough  with  me  to  raise  him 


RUDOLPH  PLAYS  POKER  153 

out,  but  we  ought  to  sting  him  good,  keep  the  money 
for  a  while  and  then  hand  it  back  to  him." 

"What's  the  big  idea?"  asked  Cass. 

"Cold  deck  him.  Get  him  out  of  the  room  again 
some  time,  and  deal  him  a  full  house.  Have  another 
one  out  that  will  top  him.  He'll  bet  his  fool  head  off, 
and  then  we'll  strip  him  on  the  call,  and  teach  him  some 
manners.  What  do  you  say?" 

Everybody  agreed,  and  Tompkins  continued:  "I 
haven't  got  enough  cash  to  hit  him.  Contributions, 
please." 

The  other  players  handed  Tompkins  various  sums 
of  money,  of  which  Tompkins  made  a  record.  "Nine 
twenty,"  he  said.  "Need  eighty  more." 

"I'm  clean,"  said  Cornwell. 

"So  am  I,"  said  Hunkins. 

"Me,  too,"  said  Cass. 

Tompkins  look  at  me,  inquiringly.  "Got  eighty 
seeds?"  he  asked. 

"I  think  so,"  I  said,  and  handed  him  four  twenty- 
dollar  bills,  which  cleaned  me,  too. 

As  this  transaction  was  concluded  Rudolph  rum- 
bled into  the  room  again,  and  sat  down  at  his  place. 

"Deal  'em  up,"  he  said.  "I  can't  rob  you  suckers 
without  cards." 

The  deal  was  made,  and  the  game  continued  witK 
no  exciting  phases.  Small  cards  were  the  rule.  Kings, 
aces  or  two  pairs  got  most  pots.  After  a  time  Tomp- 
kins went  out,  and  stayed  a  few  minutes.  The  game 
went  on.  Presently,  one  of  the  assistants  came  in  and 
told  Rudolph  he  was  wanted  on  the  telephone.  He 
lumbered  out  after  the  call  was  made. 


154  HUNKINS 

"Quick,  now,"  said  Tompkins.  "I've  framed  a  tele- 
phone call  for  him  from  a  house  down  the  road.  Sent 
Holder.  It  will  keep  him  five  or  six  minutes.  Gimme 
those  red  cards." 

Tompkins  took  the  red  deck,  ruffled  the  cards  hur- 
riedly, and  arranged  them  so  a  full  house,  three  queens 
and  a  pair  of  nines,  would  fall  to  Rudolph,  and  three 
kings  and  a  small  pair  to  himself.  He  laid  the  red 
deck  on  the  table  in  front  of  Cass,  after  whose  deal 
Rudolph  had  the  first  say. 

"I'll  holler  for  the  red  cards  next  time  the  deal 
gets  around  to  you,"  said  Tompkins  to  Cass,  "and  you 
deal  'em.  Then  I'll  do  the  rest." 

Rudolph  rumbled  back.  "Anything  happen?"  he 
asked. 

"Not  a  thing,"  said  Hunkins,  "except  that  with  you 
out  and  a  decent  game  going  I  managed  to  win  a  pot." 

"Never  mind  about  my  game,"  said  Rudolph.  "You 
bet  'em  if  you  have  'em.  I'll  learn  you,  you  tin-horns. 
I'll  make  you  pay  for  them  steaks,  by  golly.  Deal 
'em." 

The  deal  was  made,  and  the  hand  played.  Then, 
just  before  the  deal  passed  to  Cass,  Tompkins  ex- 
claimed: "Dod-gast  these  blue  cards.  I  can't  get  a 
pair.  Stick  in  that  red  deck,  Cass.  They're  made  up." 

Cass  picked  up  the  cards,  and  ostentatiously  offered 
them  to  Hunkins  to  cut.  "Let  them  run,"  said  Hun- 
kins,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand. 

Cass  dealt  carefully.  I  could  see,  after  each  had 
his  five,  that  the  cards  had  fallen  right,  for  Tompkins 
had  a  satisfied  smile  on  his  face,  and  Rudolph  already 
was  clawing  at  his  chips. 


RUDOLPH  PLAYS  POKER  155 

"It'll  cost  this  many  to  play  with  me,"  announced 
Rudolph,  pushing  in  a  hundred-dollar  stack  of  blues. 
"I'll  keep  you  honest." 

Everybody  passed  up  to  Tompkins.  He  laid  his 
hand  down  on  the  table.  "One  moment,"  he  said,  "this 
looks  as  if  it  is  going  to  be  good.  I'll  declare  five 
hundred  that's  in  my  pocket." 

"Put  up!"  insisted  Rudolph.  "My  money's  here. 
Declare  what  you  like,  but  show  it." 

"All  right,"  and  Tompkins  reached  into  his  pocket 
and  drew  out  our  combined  contributions.  "Since  you 
are  so  fresh,  Dutchy,  with  your  talk  about  keeping 
folks  honest  I'll  just  make  it  a  thousand,  and  here 
it  is."  He  stuck  the  money  under  his  chips. 

"What  you  do?"  asked  Rudolph,  eagerly. 

"Do?  Why,  you  big  stiff,  I'll  raise  you  two 
hundred." 

"Now  you  talk  like  you  was  playin'  poker,  not  mar- 
bles," commented  Rudolph.  "Come  to  that." 

He  raised  Tompkins  three  hundred  dollars.  "Right 
back  at  you,"  said  Tompkins,  raising  it  two  hundred 
more. 

"Come  again,"  said  Rudolph,  after  skinning  his 
cards  clumsily.  He  raised  it  two  hundred  more. 

"That  lets  me  out,"  said  Tompkins.     "I'll  call." 

"Hah,"  jeered  Rudolph.  "Had  to  quit.  .Tin-horn 
sport,  ain't  you?  A  bum  gambler  1" 

After  Tompkins  had  evened  the  pot  Cass  asked, 
"How  many  cards,  Rudolph?" 

"Wait  a  minute.  I  take  my  time."  He  looked  his 
cards  over,  his  lips  working  as  he  conned  them.  Then 
he  smiled  blandly  around  the  table. 


156  HUNKINS 

"I  guess  I  take  t'ree,"  he  said. 

"What?"  yelled  Tompkins.     "You  want  three?" 

"Ain't  I  entitled  to  'em?"  asked  Rudolph.  "I  pay 
for  the  privilege,  don't  I  ?" 

"You  sure  did,  you  poor  mutt,"  answered  Tompkins. 
"Take  five  if  you  want  to.  Go  ahead  and  draw  your 
fool  head  off,  and  gimme  that  money." 

"Hold  on!"  Rudolph  protested.  "It  ain't  over  yet. 
Gif  me  t'ree." 

Further  details  are  too  painful.  Rudolph  threw 
away  his  three  queens,  and  caught  two  more  nines. 
And  we  never  were  able  to  convince  him  that  it  was 
all  a  joke. 

"I  win  it  fair,  don't  I?"  he  asked.  "Well,  then  I 
keep  it." 

And  he  did. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A  CALL  TO  ARMS 

I  ATTENDED  the   weekly  committee  meetings 
at  the  Tucker  Building  headquarters.     We  or- 
ganized our  central  committee,  making  Dowd 
chairman  of  it,  and  Miss  Crawford  secretary. 
"There  was  some   news  about  this  movement  in 
the  dispatches  from  Paris  to-day,"   Dowd  said  one 
Friday  night.     "The  Americans  over  there  have  had 
a  conference  and  steps  are  being  taken  to  get  an  organi- 
zation going.     It  is  the  plan  to  do  what  can  be  done 
in  France  with  the  American  material  at  hand,  and 
to  have  a  convention  here  later  at  which  a  general 
organization  and  its  plan  and  scope  will  be  discussed 
and  adopted.     That  fits  in  with  our  work  very  well." 
"It  seems  to  me  that  it  will  delay  us,"  said  Colonel 
Anderson. 

"On  the  contrary  it  will  help  us.  You  see,  if  we 
go  ahead  and  complete  our  organization  here,  enrolling 
all  the  men  we  can,  and  forming  our  auxiliary  women's 
branches,  we  will  have  something  tangible,  something 
done,  when  the  business  of  making  the  national  organi- 
zation gets  under  way.  We  can  go  to  that  national 
gathering  with  a  big  power  behind  us,  and  use  that 
power  whatever  way  seems  to  be  best  for  our  pur- 

157 


158  HUNKINS 

poses  and  the  purposes  of  the  national  body.  Instead 
of  delaying  it  must  hurry  us,  for  it  will  not  do  to  let 
any  outsiders  come  in  here  and  get  our  men  away 
from  us." 

"How  many  men  of  our  total  are  discharged  and 
back?"  I  asked. 

"Between  four  and  five  thousand,"  Miss  Crawford 
replied.  "It  will  be  six  months,  at  least,  before  they 
are  all  here,  and  we  can  have  complete  access  to  them. 
We  have  set  up  ward  committees  in  thirteen  of  the 
nineteen  wards,  and  have  enrolled,  practically,  sixty 
per  cent,  of  all  the  soldiers  we  have  reached.  The 
others  are  holding  back  for  one  reason  or  another, 
but  the  boys  are  assimilating  the  idea,  and  we  shall 
have  ninety  per  cent,  of  them  before  we  are  finished. 
Next  week  we  shall  begin  a  series  of  meetings,  to  be 
addressed  by  various  speakers  from  this  committee,  in- 
cluding you,  Captain  Talbot." 

She  looked  at  me  with  a  challenging  sort  of  smile. 
I  was  startled,  and  confused. 

"Me?"  I  exclaimed.  "Why,  I  never  made  a  speech 
in  my  life." 

"Well,  you  will  make  several  next  week;  won't  he, 
Mr.  Dowd?" 

"He  certainly  will,  unless  he  disobeys  his  command- 
ing officer,  which  is  myself.  You'll  have  to  do  it,  Tal- 
bot, and  so  will  all  the  rest  of  us." 

"I'm  no  orator,"  I  protested. 

"I  hope  not.  This  town  is  all  cluttered  up  with 
orators.  What  we  want  is  a  talker.  You  can  talk, 
can't  you?" 

"Not  in  public." 


A  CALL  TO  ARMS  159 

"Well,  you'll  have  to  take  a  shot  at  it.  Might  as 
well  begin  that  way  as  any  other.  It  will  be  good  prac- 
tice for  your  coming  flights  of  eloquence  in  the  board 
of  aldermen." 

I  might  have  fought  Dowd  further  on  the  matter, 
but  I  saw  Miss  Crawford  regarding  me  in  a  manner 
that  made  me  certain  she  thought  me  afraid,  and  I 
said:  "Oh,  all  right.  I'll  do  my  share,  of  course. 
.Where  do  I  inflict  myself  on  the  soldiers,  and  when?" 

The  list  of  assignments  was  read.  I  was  scheduled 
for  the  Eighth,  the  Tenth  and  the  Seventeenth  wards, 
on  Tuesday,  Wednesday  and  Thursday  nights. 

"Some  circulars  are  prepared,"  Miss  Crawford  said, 
"and  there  will  be  notices  in  the  newspapers.  All  you 
have  to  do  is  to  go  to  the  meeting  place,  and  when 
your  time  comes  tell  the  soldiers  what  the  objects 
are  of  this  organization." 

"Talk  to  them  just  the  way  you  talked  to  me  when 
you  first  came  to  see  me,"  Dowd  advised. 

Some  of  the  others  were  nervous  about  their  assign- 
ments, too,  but  they  consented.  "What  about  the 
women?"  I  asked. 

"Too  early  for  that  as  yet,"  Miss  Crawford  told 
me.  "That  will  come  later." 

My  assignment  for  Tuesday  night  was  at  Hurley's 
Hall,  in  the  Eighth  Ward,  which  is  a  ward  where 
many  of  our  factory  workers  live.  I  got  there  at 
eight  o'clock,  and  found  a  hundred  and  fifty  men,  and 
a  few  women  in  the  hall.  Peter  Davidson,  a  sergeant 
who  served  with  me,  was  chairman  of  the  meeting.  He 
told  the  boys  they  had  been  called  together  to  con- 
sider the  feasibility  of  forming  an  organization  for 


160  HUNKINS 

mutual  association,  protection  and  advantage  of  all 
men  who  served  in  the  army  or  the  navy. 

"It  is  an  opportunity  to  continue  the  comradeship 
of  our  service  in  the  war,"  he  said,  "and  to  put  into 
practical  application  the  lessons  that  service  taught 
us.  It  will  enable  us  to  obtain  for  ourselves  some 
of  the  things  we  fought  for,  through  organization, 
and  self  protection,  and  it  will  extend  to  many  points, 
and  touch  on  many  interests.  If  we  organize,  and 
stand  together,  we  can  benefit  ourselves,  and  the  city 
in  which  we  live.  Furthermore,  there  will  be  state 
and  national  organizations  of  the  men  who  wore  the 
khaki  of  the  Army  and  blue  of  the  Navy,  and  we 
can  have  a  big  say  in  these,  and  thus  extend  our  in- 
fluence and  efforts  to  state  and  national  affairs,  as 
well  as  do  our  part  here  at  home." 

Sergeant  Davidson  spoke  easily  and  forcefully.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  he  exhausted  the  subject  before  he 
turned  and  said:  "I  now  have  the  pleasure  of  intro- 
ducing to  you  the  captain  I  served  under  in  France — 
Captain  George  Talbot,  who  will  now  address  you." 

There  was  much  hand-clapping  and  stamping  of  feet 
as  I  arose,  and  walked  out  to  the  front  of  the  plat- 
form. I  was  nervous,  and  afraid.  I  had  thought  out 
a  way  to  begin  my  talk,  but  I  couldn't  remember  a 
word  of  it.  So,  having  to  say  something,  I  asked: 
"How  many  of  you  boys  were  in  the  service?" 

"All  of  us!"  they  shouted. 

"How  many  got  to  France?" 

"We  did,"  yelled  about  half  of  them. 

Those  questions  and  the  apparent  interest  of  the 
boys  steadied  me,  and  I  spoke  to  them  for  nearly  an 


A  CALL  TO  ARMS  ^  161 

hour,  giving  them  my  views,  and  the  views  of  Dowd, 
which  I  adopted  as  mine,  as  to  why  it  will  be  a  good 
thing  to  go  into  this  organization.  I  assured  them 
I  am  for  it  heart  and  soul,  and  why.  I  told  a  few 
war  stories,  described  one  or  two  of  the  fights  David- 
son and  I  were  in,  and  got  a  great  cheer  as  I  con- 
cluded. 

Then  we  sang  some  army  songs,  and  Davidson  asked 
all  those  who  would  join  to  come  up  and  sign  a  tenta- 
tive roster  for  that  ward's  section  of  the  inclusive  city 
organization.  I  had  the  same  success  at  my  other 
meetings,  and  improved  my  speech  considerably. 

It  was  reported  at  the  Friday  night  meeting  that 
the  other  speakers  had  equally  encouraging  receptions. 
Miss  Crawford  tabulated  the  signatures  turned  in  from 
each  meeting,  and  said  we  secured  twenty-five  hundred 
new  names,  which  put  our  total  of  declared  member- 
ship over  three  thousand.  The  office  force  was  in- 
creased, and  formal  pledges  sent  to  each  of  the  signers 
to  be  returned  to  headquarters.  In  the  following  week 
we  opened  a  room  in  the  Sixth  Ward,  which  is  central, 
putting  it  in  charge  of  Sergeant  Ralston,  who  had  a 
good  deal  to  do  with  entertaining  the  soldiers  in  his 
sector  in  France,  and  has  ideas.  I  made  a  speech  there 
one  night,  to  about  two  hundred  members,  and  was 
surprised  to  find  they  liked  it. 

Meantime,  I  had  spoken  once  or  twice,  briefly,  in 
my  aldermanic  capacity.  Dad  dropped  in  one  night 
when  I  was  advocating  a  police  reform,  and  approved. 
"Good,  plain,  business-like  statement,"  he  said.  "Go 
to  it."  That  was  the  first  comment  Dad  made  on  my 
official  performances.  We  keep  off  that  topic  at  home. 


1 62  HUNKINS 

Dad,  apparently,  isn't  inclined  to  talk  about  it,  and  is 
waiting  for  results.  At  the  club,  and  other  places, 
where  I  meet  Daskin,  and  Chambers  and  the  crowd, 
it  is  now  an  old  story.  They  look  on  me  as  having  a 
new  fad  to  fool  with,  but  expect  that  I'll  tire  of  it 
presently,  and  come  back  to  the  golf  and  bridge  and 
dancing  circles. 

Hunkins  called  my  attention  to  the  police  change  I 
advocated.  He  said  it  is  good  politics,  because  most 
of  the  policemen  are  for  it,  but  didn't  ask  me  to 
advocate  it.  It  involves  a  shift  in  the  platoon  sys- 
tems, and  I  canvassed  some  of  the  patrolmen,  and 
found  them  in  favor  of  it.  That  was  the  only  com- 
munication I  had  from  Hunkins  touching  in  any  way 
on  my  duties  on  the  board  for  the  first  four  months. 
Then  one  day  he  called  me  on  the  telephone. 

"Will  it  be  convenient  for  you  to  come  over  to  the 
house  to-night?"  he  asked. 

"It  will." 

"All  right,  make  it  eight  o'clock  if  you  please."  I 
went  over. 

"How  are  things  going?"  he  asked,  after  we  were 
seated  in  his  little  office. 

"Pretty  well.  Of  course,  I  am  a  greenhorn  yet,  but 
I  am  gradually  getting  onto  the  way  things  work  and 
are  worked,  and  acquiring  some  ideas  as  to  what  can 
and  what  cannot  be  done." 

"How  do  they  treat  you?" 

"At  first  as  a  curiosity,  but  now  as  something  en- 
tirely superfluous  to  the  regular  course  of  business,  but 
there,  and  to  be  tolerated  for  the  time  being." 


A  CALL  TO  ARMS  163 

Hunkins  laughed.  "A  close  corporation,"  he  said. 
"They're  not  unfriendly,  are  they?" 

"Oh,  no;  merely  indifferent.  Pendergrast  is  the 
most  offish  one  of  the  lot.  The  rest  of  the  regulars 
refer  to  me  as  'Cholly  Highbrow,'  and  let  it  go  at 
that." 

"Well,  let's  stir  them  up  a  bit." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

Hunkins  lighted  a  cigarette,  and  took  a  folded  paper 
from  his  pocket.  "Do  you  know  Billy  Miller?"  he 
asked,  most  irrelevantly,  I  thought. 

"The  City  Treasurer?" 

"Yes." 

"I've  met  him.    That's  about  all." 

"Know  anything  about  him?" 

"Nothing,  except  that  he  seems  to  be  extraordinarily 
popular  with  everybody,  and  is  a  smiling,  glad-handed, 
affable  sort  of  a  person." 

"He's  all  of  that.  Billy  Miller,  I  think,  is  the  best- 
known  and  most-liked  of  the  city  officials.  He  has 
been  treasurer  for  eight  years.  We've  never  been  able 
to  beat  him.  Everybody  in  the  city  knows  him,  and 
everybody  likes  him — a  fine,  pleasant-spoken,  kindly, 
obliging  man.  That's  what  is  the  matter  with  him." 

"What  is?" 

"He's  too  obliging  for  his  own  good." 

"I  don't  understand." 

"Billy  Miller  is  a  defaulter." 

Hunkins  spoke  as  calmly  as  if  he  were  telling  me 
that  Billy  Miller  is  a  good  accountant.  It  struck  me 
as  a  most  sensational  sort  of  a  statement,  and  I  won- 
dered at  his  impassiveness. 


1 64  HUNKINS 

"A  defaulter?"  I  repeated.     "Billy  Miller  is?" 

"Yes.  He  is  short  $156,000  of  city  money,  and 
has  been  for  a  long  time." 

"Why  hasn't  he  been  exposed  and  punished?" 

"Politics." 

"Pretty  rotten  politics,  it  seems  to  me,  that  will 
protect  a  defaulter  of  city  money." 

"Granted,  but  politics  all  the  same.  You  see,  Miller 
hasn't  taken  a  cent  of  the  money  for  his  own  use. 
He's  a  victim.  That's  the  devil  of  it  so  far  as  he 
is  concerned." 

"What  did  he  do  with  it,  then?" 

"Lent  it  to  politicians.  This  is  the  way  of  it:  As  I 
have  told  you  Miller  is  a  soft-hearted,  good-natured, 
easy-going  man,  vain  of  his  position  and  vainer  of 
his  popularity  and  his  reputation  for  strict  honesty. 
These  men  took  advantage  of  all  these  weaknesses. 
Three  or  four  years  ago  they  came  to  him  with  the 
story  that  they  had  formed  a  combination  to  exploit 
a  mine  in  Arizona  with  a  fortune  in  it  for  all  of  them. 
They  pointed  out  to  Miller  that  he  could  safely  ad- 
vance some  money  to  them  for  a  short  period  from 
the  sinking  fund,  where  it  would  never  be  missed.  Pen- 
dergrast  headed  this  company,  and  all  of  them  were 
political  associates  and  pals  of  Miller's.  They  prom- 
ised Miller  that  he  would  be  let  in  for  a  big  share  of 
the  enormous  profits.  I've  also  heard  they  told  him 
they  would  not  support  him  for  re-election  if  he  re- 
fused them. 

"They  worked  on  his  vanity,  his  cupidity,  his  de- 
sire to  remain  in  office,  and  he  finally  advanced  them 
$50,000  on  their  various  I.  O.  U.'s  for  certain  allotted 


A  CALL  TO  ARMS  165 

portions  of  the  amount,  and  their  sacred  protestations 
that  the  mine  would  be  paying  in  a  few  months,  and 
that  they  all  would  be  rich.  After  that,  the  rest  was 
easy." 

"Easy?  You  mean  that  Miller  kept  on  lending 
them  money?" 

"Exactly.  Miller  was  then  in  the  position  of  a  bank 
that  has  a  big  line  of  credit  out  to  a  man  in  difficulties. 
The  bank  is  forced  to  give  that  man  further  credit 
to  protect  what  he  has  already  borrowed.  They  didn't 
pay;  said  they  couldn't.  The  mine  took  more  than 
they  expected,  but  they  assured  Miller  it  would  be  all 
right,  and  they  would  be  able  to  make  complete  repay- 
ment if  he  would  advance  them  some  more  money  to 
enable  them  to  complete  their  operations.  Miller  was 
helpless.  In  any  event  he  was  short  $50,000,  for  the 
borrowers  said,  flatly,  they  could  not  repay  without 
extensions  of  time  and  further  advances.  That  left 
Miller  a  defaulter,  with  these  men  culpable  only  as 
compounders  of  a  felony  in  a  city  where  they  can  most 
likely  escape  punishment.  So,  to  protect  himself,  he 
took  a  further  chance  on  them,  weakly  relying  on  their 
fervent  promises  to  repay,  and  their  glowing  prospectus 
for  the  mine,  and  the  result  is  that  he  is  now  short 
$156,000,  and  there  is  hell  to  pay." 

I  was  so  interested  I  sat  on  the  edge  of  my  chair 
leaning  forward  to  catch  every  word  of  Hunkins'  dis- 
passionate recital. 

"Is  it  coming  out?"  I  asked,  excitedly. 

"Not  if  the  Pendergrast  oufit  can  prevent  it.  They 
got  the  money.  They  are  hustling  around  now  to  raise 
enough  to  make  up  the  deficit,  because  Miller  is  at  the 


1 66  HUNKINS 

end  of  his  string.  There  is  bond  payment  due  on  Sep- 
tember first,  and  the  sinking  fund  is  $156,000  shy. 
He  cannot  transfer  the  money  from  any  other  fund, 
because  that  will  ball  him  up  just  as  badly,  and  expose 
him.  He  has  just  squeaked  through  on  a  couple  of 
manipulations  like  that,  and  doesn't  dare  try  another. 
He  is  howling  for  his  money.  It  is  pay  or  play  with 
him." 

Hunkins  sat  with  the  folded  paper  in  his  hands, 
eyeing  me  closely  to  see  what  impression  the  story 
made  on  me.  I  was  in  great  commotion,  not  only 
over  the  disclosure,  but  because  I  was  entirely  in  the 
dark  as  to  why  Hunkins  called  me  over  to  make  it 
to  me.  Why?  I  couldn't  frame  any  sort  of  an  answer, 
much  less  one  that  was  plausible.  However,  it  was 
my  turn  to  make  some  comment. 

"It  should  be  exposed,"  I  said. 

"Certainly,"  Hunkins  replied.  "That's  what  I  want 
to  talk  to  you  about." 

"Me?  Where  do  I  come  in?"  It  was  more  ex- 
citing than  I  thought  it  was  at  first,  with  me  in  it, 
but  pounding  in  the  back  of  my  head  was  the  insistent 
query:  What's  behind  this?  What  is  his  motive?  I 
couldn't  fathom  him. 

"You  enter,  if  you  like,  in  your  capacity  as  alder- 
man from  the  Second  Ward,"  he  replied,  as  if  that 
was  a  most  natural  and  logical  position  for  a  part 
in  it  for  me.  "I'll  explain.  We  are  coming  into  a 
mayoralty  campaign.  We  want  to  win.  It  will  be  a 
hard  job,  because  Spearle  is  not  only  a  pretty  fair 
mayor,  but  is  a  popular  citizen.  The  reason  the  gang 
who  milked  Miller  are  trying  so  hard  to  cover  is  be' 


A  CALL  TO  ARMS  167 

cause  they  know,  what  I  know,  that  such  a  distinctly 
political  scandal  in  a  city  administration  at  this  time 
will  defeat  them.  Sure  to.  And  it  may  send  some 
of  them  to  jail.  They  are  trying  to  get  the  money,  but 
that  is  difficult,  for  they  have  to  raise  it  surreptitiously. 
They  can't  borrow  $156,000  without  telling  what  they 
want  it  for,  and  that  closes  the  ordinary  sources  to 
them,  partially,  at  least.  They  do  not  care  a  whoop 
about  Miller.  They  are  protecting  themselves,  and 
their  political  organization.  Now,  then,  if  they  can 
have  a  few  weeks  they  may  scrape  this  amount  to- 
gether, and  be  able  to  cover.  That  will  save  them, 
but  it  won't  help  us.  Therefore,  I  think  it  well  to  ex- 
pose them  immediately,  before  they  are  able  to  make 
good.  It  would  be  better  if  we  could  wait  until  just 
before  the  election,  but  we  can't  take  that  chance." 

I  listened  closely,  but  drew  a  blank  so  far  as  my 
part  in  it  was  revealed  to  me.  I  couldn't  figure  what 
my  position  as  alderman  has  to  do  with  exposing  Billy 
Miller's  shortage. 

"You'll  have  to  make  it  a  little  plainer  than  that, 
Mr.  Hunkins,"  I  said.  "I  don't  get  your  drift." 

"My  suggestion  is  this:  I  have  the  exact  figures  of 
all  these  transactions,  taken  from  the  city  books  by  a 
friend  of  mine  who  has  the  opportunity,  being  a  clerk 
in  the  city  treasurer's  office.  He  discovered  what  was 
going  on  by  accident,  not  through  any  superior  detective 
ability,  and  spent  a  long  time  making  a  thorough  in- 
vestigation. The  figures  are  authentic.  I  had  them 
investigated  by  expert  accountants  one  Saturday  and 
Sunday  when  Miller  was  away,  and  the  office  closed. 
My  man  saw  to  it  that  the  books  were  available.  I 


1 68  HUNKINS 

guarantee  their  correctness.  What  I  propose  to  you 
is  that  you  take  these  figures,  get  up  in  the  board  of 
aldermen  next  Monday  night,  and  make  this  charge, 
proving  it  by  citing  these  figures,  and  challenge  Pen- 
dergrast  and  his  crowd  to  dispute  their  correctness." 

I  whistled.     "Won't  that  raise  hell?"  I  asked. 

"Probably,  and  then  some;  but  it  is  good  politics 
from  our  viewpoint,  and  it  will  be  an  excellent  starter 
for  you.  There  will  be  a  lot  of  publicity  attached  to 
it,  you  know,  and  you  will  at  once  identify  yourself 
as  the  sort  of  an  alderman  you  want  to  be — make  the 
beginnings  of  a  reputation,  and  do  the  party  a  service. 
It  will  cinch  the  next  mayor  for  us.  What  do  you 
think?" 

As  he  talked  I  was  making  a  mental  picture  of  my- 
self standing  up  and  reciting  these  charges,  of  the  con- 
sternation among  the  Pendergrast  men,  of  the  riot  that 
would  follow,  of  the  big  headlines  in  the  newspapers, 
of  myself  as  a  noble  young  statesman  who  fears  no 
foe  and  follows  only  the  dictates  of  duty  and  conscience, 
and  so  on.  My  brain  was  operating  like  a  cinema  ma- 
chine. The  spirit  of  adventure  in  me  urged  me  to  take 
it,  but  that  old  machine-gun  experience  came  before  me. 
"Steady!"  I  thought,  and  again  there  was  the  per- 
sistent pounding  in  the  back  of  my  head:  "Motive — 
motive — what's  the  reason  for  picking  me?" 

"I  don't  know  what  to  think,"  I  answered,  sparring 
for  time.  "To  be  frank  with  you  I  don't  quite  get 
your  motive  in  asking  me  to  do  this." 

Hunkins  laughed  good  humoredly.  "You  certainly 
are  keen  on  demanding  motives  for  every  proposal  I 
make  to  you,"  he  said.  "You  must  read  none  but  the 


A  CALL  TO  ARMS  169 

opposition  newspapers,  which  point  out,  from  time  to 
time,  that  I  am  ulterior  in  everything  I  do.  For  exam- 
ple, they  made  a  column  last  fall  because  I  went  to  the 
capital  once  on  a  morning  train  instead  of  waiting  to 
midnight  as  the  original  plan  was,  attaching  great  po- 
litical significance  to  that  strategy  which  was  dictated  by 
the  Machiavellian  reason  that  I  neglected  to  get  Pull- 
man accommodations  until  it  was  too  late  for  anything 
but  an  upper  berth,  and  preferred  to  ride  in  a  chair." 

"Well,"  I  said,  defending  myself,  "you  can't  blame 
me.  I  don't  know  you  very  well." 

"That  is  my  misfortune  and  I  regret  it.  If  you  knew 
me  better  you  would  not  be  so  suspicious,  possibly. 
However,  I'll  try  to  make  the  proposition  clearer.  My 
motive  is  two-fold.  In  the  first  place  you  are  a  young 
man  of  good  position,  education  and  standing,  and 
interested  in  politics.  Odd  as  it  may  seem  to  you,  I 
conceive  the  future  success  of  our  party,  which  is  my 
passion,  to  be  possible  only  if  men  like  you  can  be 
interested  in  politics;  also,  the  future  development  of 
our  city.  Now,  then,  as  you  are  interested  in  politics, 
as  I  have  watched  you  closely  and  think  you  have  stuff 
in  you,  I  consider  this  a  good  chance  for  you,  as  well 
as  an  opportunity  for  the  organization.  It  is  a  fifty- 
fifty  affair  as  I  view  it.  It  will  give  you  an  excellent 
prominence,  get  you  considerable  kudos  from  the  en- 
tire populace,  and  it  will  make  it  much  easier  for  us 
to  turn  out  this  city  administration  and  put  our  own  men 
in,  which  is  where  the  organization  participates." 

"It's  pretty  tough  on  Billy  Miller,"  I  said,  still  seek- 
ing delay. 

"Politics    is    a    tough    game,"    Hunkins    answered 


170  HUNKINS 

gravely,  "when  you  are  playing  it  with  tough  people. 
One  other  point:  Possibly  you  think  I  am  not  stating 
the  case  correctly.  Look  at  this." 

He  handed  me  the  paper,  a  certified  statement  by 
the  biggest  firm  of  accountants  in  the  city,  that  there  is 
a  deficit  in  the  sinking  found  of  $156,000,  that  that 
deficit  is  covered  only  by  personal  I.  O.  U.'s  of  the 
seven  men  named  therein,  each  in  the  sum  set  opposite 
his  name;  and  that  this  information  comes  from  the 
books  of  the  city  treasurer.  Pendergrast  led,  with 
$47,000.  The  others  had  secured  smaller  sums,  but 
James  K.  Skidmore,  at  the  bottom  of  the  list,  had 
dipped  in  for  $12,500,  which  was  the  least  amount 
of  the  borrowings. 

"Hits  a  lot  of  your  friends,"  I  said,  not  exactly 
knowing  why. 

"My  friends?"  asked  Hunkins,  mildly. 

"Yes;  the  general  understanding  is  that  you  and 
Pendergrast  work  together." 

Hunkins  laughed.  "Oh,"  he  said,  "that's  it,  is  it? 
'Ne  scutica  dignus  horribili  sectere  flagello,'  as  Horace 
says.  Don't  pursue  with  a  scourge  what  is  only  worth 
a  whipping.  I  assure  you  that  my  relations  with  Pen- 
dergrast do  not  extend  to  larceny.  I  have  no  partners 
in  such  enterprises  of  that  sort  as  I  undertake.  You 
should  know  by  this  time  that  I  am  a  lone  wolf  in 
my  depredations.  Pendergrast  and  I  may  have  occa- 
sional deals  together,  but  I  always  conduct  my  higher 
crimes  against  the  public  alone.  Really,  you  do  me 
wrong  in  thinking  that  when  I  break  the  Eighth  Com- 
mandment, for  example,  I  form  a  company  for  the 
project;  not  at  all.  My  associations  with  Pender- 


A  CALL  TO  ARMS  171 

grast  are  minor  ones — misdemeanors,  perhaps,  but 
no  more  than  that.  Our  fellows  are  quite  clear  on 
this,  I  assure  you." 

His  irony  confused  me.  "I  didn't  mean  that,"  I 
protested. 

"It's  perfectly  all  right,"  he  said.  "You  are  not 
to  blame  for  voicing  what  our  leading  citizens  have 
been  saying  for  years,  without  taking  the  trouble  to 
investigate,  or  having  any  proof.  But  we  are  straying 
afield.  The  question  before  the  house  is :  Do  you  want 
to  do  this?" 

He  put  it  squarely  up  to  me,  and  I  did  some  rapid 
thinking.  Hunkins  waited  patiently,  regarding  me  with 
a  twinkle  in  his  eyes,  and  a  smile  at  the  corner  of  his 
lips.  "Take  your  time,"  he  said.  "Consider  it  fully." 

I  ran  it  all  over  in  my  mind:  the  sensation,  the  effect 
on  the  next  campaign,  the  prominence  it  will  give  me, 
the  antagonism  of  Pendergrast  and  his  crowd  that  will 
beset  me,  the  possible  dangers  and  the  ensuing  benefits. 
I  thought:  "What  is  there  to  lose?  Nothing.  What  is 
there  to  gain?  A  good  many  things,  including  a  con- 
siderable personal  prestige;  also,  the  thing  must  be 
exposed." 

"I  suppose,"  I  said,  "that  if  I  do  not  do  it  some 
one  else  will." 

"Certainly,"  Hunkins  replied.  "You  have  the  first 
chance;  that's  all." 

"Why  not  give  it  to  the  newspapers?" 

"Because  we  cannot  get  the  direct  political  benefit, 
nor  make  the  direct  political  application — throw  it  right 
into  the  faces  of  the  men  who  are  guilty — that  we 
can  by  having  a  party  man  expose  it  in  a  party  man- 


1 72  HUNKINS 

ner,  for  the  good  of  the  city  of  course.  Pendergrast 
will  be  there,  on  the  floor,  and  it  will  be  fastened  to 
him  immediately.  The  newspapers  will  be  obliged  to 
print  the  first,  and  biggest,  story  with  that  angle,  iden- 
tifying you  with  it,  and  us,  too.  Otherwise,  it  will 
be  a  newspaper  story  first  with  our  organization  inci- 
dental, and  Pendergrast  will  have  a  chance  for  de- 
fense, for  the  papers  will  be  sure  to  see  him  before 
they  print  it  if  they  get  it  without  the  initial  publicity. 
I  view  it  as  an  organization  opportunity  and  duty." 

"But  I  do  not  belong  to  your  organization." 

"Oh,  yes  you  do,  until  you  run  out  on  us.  In- 
directly, at  least,  you  are  one  of  us,  nominated  and 
elected  by  us,  you  know." 

I  thought  that  over.  It  is  true  enough.  So  long  as 
I  am  a  party  man  I  am  an  organization  man.  Of 
course,  I  am  independent,  also,  but 

"You  are  sure  that  it  will  help  defeat  Spearle?"  I 
asked. 

"Certain." 

"Who  will  be  nominated  to  oppose  him?" 

"Now  you  are  trying  to  make  a  seer  out  of  me. 
That  depends  on  conditions  at  nominating  time." 

"What  will  happen  if  I  make  the  exposure?" 

"Where?" 

"At  the  meeting." 

"There  will  be  a  riot,  no  doubt." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"You  wouldn't  ask  if  you  knew  Pendergrast  better. 
He  is  a  hard,  rough,  crafty,  unscrupulous  man,  who 
fought  his  way  up  to  where  he  is — or  down — with  his 
fists,  and  such  auxiliaries  as  chairs,  bottles,  brass 


A  CALL  TO  ARMS  173 

knuckles  and  pistols.  So  did  some  of  his  followers  who 
are  in  that  board.  Naturally,  as  soon  as  he  realizes 
what  you  have  in  mind  he  will  yell  for  regular  order 
and  move  to  adjourn  to  shut  you  off.  Then,  if  you 
shoot  the  main  fact  out  in  the  first  sentence,  it  will  come 
to  him  that  the  beans  are  all  spilled,  anyhow,  no  matter 
whether  they  adjourn  or  not.  Naturally,  also,  his 
mind,  being  the  sort  of  a  mind  it  is,  will  revert  to 
immediate,  personal  revenge,  and  he'll  start  for  you 
to  beat  you  up;  and  he'll  do  it,  too,  if  you  do  not 
watch  out,  and  his  gang  will  help  him.  It  won't  be 
leader  Pendergrast  who  will  be  operating  then,  but 
Slugger  Pendergrast.  That's  the  obverse  of  it.  Ten 
years  ago  several  of  that  gang  would  be  carrying  pis- 
tols. They  are  slightly  more  civilized  now,  and  there 
is  no  danger  of  shooting." 

"Looks  as  if  it  might  be  an  interesting  evening,  if 
I  do  it,"  I  said,  and  the  prospect  was  rather  alluring. 
Things  have  been  dull  since  I  returned  from  France. 
"How  will  your  fellows  act?" 

"They  will  be  neutral.  They  won't  help  you  much, 
but  they  will  not  weigh  in  with  Pendergrast,  either. 
That's  the  best  I  can  promise.  I  do  not  dare  trust 
them  with  the  secret.  They're  all  friends,  you  know. 
Want  to  try  it?" 

I  thought  it  all  over  again,  while  Hunkins  sat  watch- 
ing me  with  grave  interest.  Suddenly,  I  decided  to  do 
it.  I  don't  know  why,  exactly,  but  I  did. 

"Yes,"  I  said.    "I'll  do  it.    Can  I  have  that  paper?" 

"Here  is  a  certified  copy.  I'll  just  keep  the  origi- 
nal in  case  of  accident.  I'm  glad  you  will  do  it.  It 
may  be  exciting,  but  it  will  do  good  all  around.  I'll 


i74  HUNKINS 

tell  you  if  anything  happens  between  now  and  Monday 
night  to  make  it  inadvisable.  Meantime,  go  to  it,  and 
thanks  for  the  cooperation." 

I  turned  as  I  was  at  the  door.  "How  much  of  a 
rough-house  do  you  think  will  develop?" 

"There's  no  telling.    Pendergrast  is  a  hard  citizen." 

"What  preparations  should  I  make?" 

"Whatever  you  think  necessary,  in  view  of  what  I 
have  told  you.  You  are  a  military  man,  and  a  pru- 
dent warrior  always  has  the  heavier  battalions.  The 
strategy  of  it  is  up  to  you.  I  haven't  concealed  any- 
thing from  you.  There  may  be  a  mix.  You're  tak- 
ing that  chance." 

"All  right,"  I  said.     "I'll  take  it." 

"You'll  not  regret  it,"  Hunkins  replied,  as  I  went 
out. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  PLAN  OF  CAMPAIGN 

SORRY  for  Bill  Miller,  glad  for  a  chance  to  get 
after  Pendergrast,  who  I  consider  the  most  dan- 
gerous man  in  our  politics,  and  pleasurably  ex- 
cited over  the  prospect  of  a  real  action,  I  re- 
viewed the  situation  after  I  got  home  and  studied  the 
paper  Hunkins  gave  me.     It  was  all  there,  just  as  he 
said,  a  tabulated  statement  giving  the  amounts  loaned 
to  the  mining  company,  the  dates  of  the  I.  O.  U.'s,  the 
partners  in  the  enterprise,  and  such  other  information 
as  bore  on  the  transactions — a  cold,  statistical  record 
of  the  weakness  of  one  man  and  the  villainies  of  seven. 
I  framed  my  speech.     It  is  to  be  short,  to  the  point, 
and  denunciatory  to  the  limit.     It  is  to  call  for  pun- 
ishment of  all  the  guilty  persons.     It  is  to  be  a  model 
of  deliberate  diatribe. 

My  thoughts  clung  to  what  Hunkins  said  as  we 
parted:  "You  are  a  military  man.  Your  strategy  is 
in  your  own  hands."  What  does  he  mean  by  that? 
Going  back  over  the  conversation,  what  he  said  about 
there  being  a  fight  obtruded.  I  laid  it  out.  I  am 
to  stand  up  and  denounce  Pendergrast,  who  will  be 
there  on  the  floor,  surrounded  by  eleven  of  his  own 
followers.  Cornwell,  the  presiding  officer,  will  be 
with  him.  Charley  Elmer,  clerk,  will  be  with  him; 


176  HUNKINS 

so  will  the  doorkeepers,  and  messengers,  the  police, 
and  other  minor  officials.  At  best,  I  can  count  only 
on  the  support  of  Cass,  Kilmany,  and  Professor  Stark- 
weather, up  to  his  feeble  limit.  Hunkins'  men  will  be 
passively  with  me.  I  doubt  if  they  will  go  to  the 
mat  on  it.  Hunkins  says  Pendergrast  will  try  to  stop 
it,  physically  if  he  cannot  prevent  it  by  parliamentary 
objections.  Where  will  I  come  in? 

"You  are  a  military  man.  Your  strategy  is  in  your 
own  hands."  By  Jove,  he  means  that  I  shall  get  in 
some  outside  support — soldiers!  It  is  as  clear  as  day. 
Tornmie  Dowd!  Sure.  The  very  man.  I'll  see  him 
in  the  morning.  I  went  to  bed  and  dreamed  of  a  rough- 
and-tumble  fight  with  Pendergrast  that  lasted  inter- 
minably. 

It  happens  that  the  accountants  who  made  this  ex- 
amination audit  Dad's  books  each  year.  I  know  the 
junior  member  of  the  firm,  Ernest  Plaisted,  intimately. 
At  ten  o'clock  I  was  at  his  office. 

"Ernest,"  I  told  him,  "I  want  a  strictly  confiden- 
tial talk  with  you." 

He  sent  out  his  secretary,  and  closed  the  door. 
"Fire  ahead,"  he  said. 

"Is  this  on  the  level?"  and  I  handed  him  the  paper 
Hunkins  gave  me. 

He  read  it  carefully.  "It's  a  correct  copy  of  an 
original,"  he  said.  "Where  did  you  get  it?" 

"Mr.  Hunkins  gave  it  to  me.     Is  it  straight?" 

"We're  not  supposed  to  talk  about  the  business  of 
our  clients." 

"I  know  that,  but  this  is  more  than  a  client's  busi- 
ness. It  is  the  business  of  every  man  and  woman  in 


THE  PLAN  OF  CAMPAIGN  177 

this  city  who  pays  city  taxes.  Besides,  there  is  only 
one  place  I  could  get  it,  and  that  is  from  Hunkins.  He 
gave  it  to  me.  I  only  want  one  word  about  it.  Is  it 
straight?" 

Plaisted  did  not  answer  at  once.  He  got  up  and 
walked  over  to  the  window,  drummed  a  little  on  the 
glass  with  his  fingers,  lighted  a  cigar,  and  wiped  his 
glasses. 

"It  is  important  for  me  to  know,"  I  persisted,  "and 
a  hundred  times  as  important  that  the  people  should 
know.  You  will  be  satisfied  with  the  outcome  of  it, 
and  you  ought  to  tell  me.  Is  it  straight?" 

Plaisted  turned  and  said:  "Yes,  unfortunately  it  is." 

I  thanked  him,  and  left  for  Dowd's  office.  Dowd 
was  deep  in  a  conference  with  half  a  dozen  of  his 
soldier  friends  and  I  waited  impatiently  until  they 
left.  Then  he  turned  and  said :  "Bon  jour,  my  bold 
alderman.  How  are  they  coming?" 

"Plenty  beaucoup,"  I  replied  in  the  soldier  manner. 
"Seen  any  fighting  lately?" 

"Not  a  leaf  stirring  since  I  left  Mouzon." 

"Feel  like  a  little  carnage?" 

"Ah,  oui — oui !  Lead  me  to  it.  This  law  business 
is  a  dreary  and  inactive  occupation.  When  and 
where?" 

"Next  Monday  night  at  the  meeting  of  the  Board 
of  Aldermen." 

Dowd  jerked  himself  up  in  his  chair,  and  looked 
at  me  sharply. 

"Oh,  boy,"  he  said,  "but  that's  an  alluring  pros- 
pect. I've  always  wanted  a  chance  at  that  bunch,  but 
I  don't  get  you.  Let  me  have  the  pleasant  details." 


i78  HUNKINS 

I  told  him  the  story,  from  beginning  to  end,  bore 
down  on  the  possibility  of  a  ruction  raised  by  Pender- 
grast  and  his  crowd,  and  handed  him  the  paper. 

"How  do  you  know  it's  true?"  he  asked,  after  I 
had  finished  and  he  had  read  the  paper. 

"I  took  it  to  Ernest  Plaisted,  and  he  told  me  it  is." 

"That's  proof  enough.  It  is  if  he  says  so.  What's 
the  plot?"  He  was  looking  at  me  with  the  light  of 
battle  in  his  eyes. 

"Just  this.  If  Pendergrast  starts  anything  I  want 
to  be  protected  until  I  get  through.  I  can't  rely  much 
on  my  party  colleagues,  and  I  must  arrange  for  some 
outside  help." 

"What  sort  of  outside  help?" 

"Tommie,"  I  said,  "the  law  has  thinned  your  fight- 
ing blood.  I  mean  soldier  outside  help,  of  course." 

He  jumped  up.  "Sure!"  he  shouted.  "How 
many?" 

"Twenty-five  or  thirty  picked  men,  I  should  say." 

He  had  it  then.  His  mind  began  to  work  like  an 
eight-cylinder  engine. 

"Make  it  thirty;  no,  fifty  will  be  better.  You  see, 
when  that  gets  started,  if  it  does  start,  Pendergrast's 
first  move  will  be  to  call  in  the  police,  and  they  will 
do  what  he  tells  them  to.  Now,  it  is  up  to  us  to  have 
enough  men  in  the  chamber  to  hold  things  steady  until 
you  are  through,  and  enough  men  outside  to  guard  the 
doors  to  see  that  nobody  slips  out  to  a  'phone.  All 
the  'phones  there  are  in  the  ante-rooms.  The  police 
may  get  the  tip,  and  we  want  enough  men  on  hand  to 
make  it  quick  and  decisive,  for  there  is  no  nourish- 
ment in  fighting  the  police.  They  have  guns  and  night- 


THE  PLAN  OF  CAMPAIGN  179 

sticks.  A  policeman  always  has  the  best  of  it  at  the 
first,  too,  for  he  has  the  law  behind  him,  and  we'll  be 
bending,  if  not  breaking,  that  sacred  legal  institution 
known  as  the  peace.  Still,  we'll  have  to  hold  the  two 
bulls  who  usually  are  on  guard  there  for  a  few  min- 
utes. We  can  handle  two  of  them,  and  might  make 
a  showing  against  a  platoon,  but  what's  the  use?  The 
thing  to  do  is  to  keep  the  bystanders  herded  until  you 
finish,  and  distribute  the  men  around  inside  so  they  can 
restrain  the  Pendergrast  sluggers  for  the  same  length 
of  time.  It's  a  cinch.  Want  me  to  help?" 

His  eyes  sparkled,  and  his  hands  clenched  and  un- 
clenched as  he  talked.  He  was  in  it  already. 

"Want  you  to  help  ?  I  want  you  to  handle  it.  Will 
you?" 

"Will  I?  Leave  it  to  me,  and  I'll  shove  some 
huskies  against  that  gang  that  will  eat  'em  alive  if 
they  start  anything." 

"Don't  tip  the  Miller  story  off." 

"Not  a  word,  but,  say,  we  ought  to  let  Steve  Fox 


in  on  it." 


We  did,  and  had  great  difficulty  in  restraining  Steve 
from  jumping  down  the  elevator  shaft  with  the  story 
in  his  anxiety  to  get  it  into  print. 

"Nix  on  that,  Steve,"  we  cautioned.  "Not  a  line 
until  it  happens." 

"You're  fine  friends,  you  are,"  Steve  wailed.  "Tell 
me  the  biggest  story  that's  broken  in  this  town  in  a 
year,  and  then  won't  let  me  print  it.  Dammit,  what 
did  you  tell  me  for?" 

"Cheer  up,  Stevie,"  Dowd  said.  "You've  got  an 
edge  on  it,  and  can  have  a  copy  of  this  paper,  and 


1 8o  HUNKINS 

most  of  the  story  written  before  you  come  to  the 
meeting." 

Steve  fought  hard,  but  finally  consented  to  be  rea- 
sonable. We  formed  a  general- staff,  consisting  of  the 
three  of  us,  and  made  our  plan  of  campaign. 

I  had  my  speech  ready  by  Monday,  ten  minutes 
long,  condensed  to  the  bare,  biting  statement  of  fact. 
I  felt  there  might  be  no  opportunity  for  eloquence. 
I  saw  Dowd  at  five  o'clock  that  afternoon.  He  had 
fifty  men,  who  were  to  get  to  the  aldermanic  cham- 
ber early,  half  of  them  to  take  seats  inside,  while  the 
other  half  stood  unobtrusively  as  possible  around  the 
corridors,  to  come  up  when  they  get  the  signal;  Dowd 
in  command,  with  Sergeant  Davidson  in  charge  of  the 
outside  squad. 

Hunkins  called  me  at  six  o'clock.  "Is  everything 
all  set?"  he  asked. 

"Yes.     Coming  over?" 

"No,  I  guess  not.  Better  for  me  to  stay  away. 
You've  worked  out  a  plan  of  defense,  I  hope." 

"Yes.  There  may  be  a  communique  from  the  front 
in  the  papers  in  the  morning." 

"May  victory  perch  on  your  banners.  Go  to  it,  and 
good  luck." 

The  aldermanic  chamber  is  a  large,  rectangular  room 
on  the  second  floor  of  the  City  Hall.  There  are  nine- 
teen desks  in  the  center  of  the  room,  with  swivel 
chairs,  within  a  railed  enclosure  having  gates  at  the 
end  nearest  the  general  entrance.  Outside  of  these 
rails,  on  the  long  sides  of  the  room,  are  seats,  in  the 
form  of  pews,  that  will  accommodate  a  hundred  people 
on  a  side.  These  seats  are  occupied  on  meeting  nights 


THE  PLAN  OF  CAMPAIGN  181 

with  people  who  are  interested  in  the  affairs  of  the 
board,  with  lawyers  who  practice  in  the  City  Hall,  and 
the  general  riff-raff  that  frequents  such  places — sitters 
who  want  a  place  to  rest  more  than  anything  else — 
and  some  regulars  who  are  on  hand  every  Monday 
night  and  write  letters  to  the  papers  expressing  ap- 
proval or  disapproval  of  the  acts  of  the  aldermen. 

When  there  is  anything  important  on  there  is  likely 
to  be  an  audience  that  fills  all  the  seats,  but  on  ordinary 
nights  there  will  not  be  more  than  fifty  or  seventy- 
five  men  and  women  there,  all  told.  A  policeman 
generally  stands  at  the  gate  opening  to  the  aldermanic 
enclosure  to  keep  too  persistent  local  lobbyists  outside, 
and  preserve  the  dignity  of  the  meetings;  and  another 
policeman  is  stationed  in  the  corridor. 

The  desk  of  the  presiding  officer  is  at  the  far  end 
of  the  room,  on  a  raised  platform,  and  flanked  by 
the  desk  of  the  city  clerk,  who  is  the  official  recorder 
of  the  sessions.  There  are  desks  for  two  or  three 
other  clerks  and  officials,  and  just  below  these  are  the 
six  desks  for  the  newspaper  reporters.  The  presiding 
official,  the  clerks  and  the  reporters  sit  facing  the  en- 
trance door  and  the  aldermen  with  their  backs  to  it, 
and  facing  the  presiding  officer.  There  are  several 
committee  rooms  and  ante-rooms  outside,  and  a  door 
behind  the  desk  of  the  presiding  officer  that  leads 
to  his  private  room. 

Aldermanic  meetings  begin  at  seven  o'clock,  making 
it  necessary  to  have  our  men  there  before  that  time. 
Dowd  assembled'  them  at  the  Tucker  Building  offices 
at  six  o'clock.  They  arrived  promptly,  lusting  for  the 
fray.  The  plan  of  campaign  sent  half  of  them  into 


1 82  HUNKINS 

the  chamber,  in  twos  and  threes,  to  take  seats  on  oppo- 
site sides,  each  group  separated  from  each  other  group 
so  that  no  suspicion  may  be  aroused  over  their  pres- 
ence; the  other  half  to  remain  outside,  in  the  corri- 
dors, with  instructions  to  rush  up  to  the  main  entrance 
and  go  where  Davidson  tells  them  to,  after  they  hear 
his  whistle. 

At  half  past  six  Dowd  telephoned  to  me  that  they 
were  all  on  their  joyful  way,  strictly  cautioned  that 
they  must  start  nothing  until  the  word  is  passed. 

"They  understand,  and  are  ready,"  he  said.  "You 
need  fear  nothing  except  a  riot  call  for  the  whole  police 
force.  If  they  get  that  over  we'll  have  to  make  a 
getaway,  for  I  am  not  in  favor  of  going  against  that 
outfit  of  cops  unless  it  is  more  important  than  I  think 
it  is.  I've  told  them  to  lay  off  the  police." 

"They  are  not  taking  pistols,  I  hope,"  I  said,  know- 
ing that  those  young  men  have  no  ideas  about  a  fight 
save  that  the  only  proper  finish  for  one  is  victory,  and 
have  recently  been  to  a  war  where  victory  was  obtained 
by  their  use  of  various  implements  of  offense,  with 
which  they  are  quite  familiar. 

"No;  there  isn't  a  gat  on  them.  I  made  sure  of 
that,  however " 

"However  what?" 

"I  did  find  a  few  billies,  and  I  hadn't  the  heart  to 
take  those  away  from  them." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

WE  GIVE  BATTLE 

I  NOTICED  a  number  of  erect,  sturdy-looking 
men  in  the  corridors  on  my  way  to  the  alder- 
manic  chamber,  and  saw  Dowd  sitting  in  a 
front  seat,  on  the  left  hand  side,  reading  an 
evening  paper  as  I  went  to  my  desk.  The  usual  num- 
ber of  spectators  for  a  routine  night  were  there,  in- 
cluding half  a  dozen  women,  and  scattered  among 
them  were  various  clean-shaven,  browned,  husky  young 
persons  who  were  watching  the  gathering  statesmen 
on  the  floor  with  active  interest. 

"Rush  her,"  I  heard  Pendergrast  say  to  Cornwell. 
"There's  nothing  on,  and  I'm  in  a  hurry." 

The  meeting  was  called  to  order  a  minute  or  two 
past  seven  by  Cornwell.  Charley  Elmer  hustled 
through  the  journal  of  the  previous  meeting  and  the 
routine  reports  of  committees  and  such  similar  busi- 
ness. In  half  an  hour  we  had  reached  the  head  of: 
"New  and  unfinished  business." 

"Any  unfinished  business?"  Cornwell  asked,  and  a 
member  made  a  brief  statement  about  a  pending 
ordinance. 

"New  business,"  ordered  Cornwell,  briskly,  not  ex- 
pecting any.  That  was  my  cue.  I  rose  precipitately. 
My  heart  beat  rapidly,  and  my  throat  felt  dry  and 
raspy.  Pendergrast,  who  sits  on  the  opposite  side  of 

183 


1 84  HUNKINS 

the  center  aisle  from  me,  and  in  the  front  row  while 
I  am  in  the  fourth,  heard  me,  and  turned  to  see  who 
was  interfering  with  his  programme  for  a  rush  meeting. 

"Mr.  President,"  I  said,  in  a  voice  that  sounded  far 
away  and  strained.  Dowd  was  leaning  forward,  with 
both  hands  on  the  railing,  as  if  ready  to  vault,  and 
looking  at  me  intently.  The  soldiers  were  all  watch- 
ing Dowd,  who  nodded  at  me  and  smiled  reassuringly. 

"The  gentleman  from  the  Second,"  said  Cornwell, 
sharply,  as  if  annoyed  that  I  should  be  delaying  pro- 
ceedings by  any  futile  remarks  of  mine  when  Pender- 
grast,  the  boss,  desired  expedition. 

I  drew  a  long  breath,  steadied  myself,  and  was 
about  to  take  the  plunge  when  Pendergrast  jumped 
up  and  asked:  "Mr.  President,  may  I  inquire  for  what 
purpose  the  gentleman  from  the  Second  rises?" 

Cornwell  is  a  good  presiding  officer.  He  took  his 
cue  instantly.  Pendergrast  remained  standing  while 
Cornwell  asked :  "Will  the  gentleman  from  the  Second 
state  his  purpose?" 

"I  rise  under  the  head  of  new  business,"  I  replied, 
"in  my  capacity  as  a  member  of  this  body,  and  I  have 
an  important  statement  to  make  under  that  head." 

Contempt  for  me  and  anger  over  the  delay  were 
in  Pendergrast's  "Huh!"  as  he  dropped  into  his  chair. 

"Mr.  President,"  I  repeated,  in  better  voice,  step- 
ping into  the  aisle  and  stiffening  myself,  "there  is  a 
shortage  in  the  city  treasury  of  $156,000!" 

Instantly  Pendergrast  was  on  his  feet  again.  "Mr. 
President,"  he  cried,  "I  object!  This  is  an  unwar- 
ranted and  libelous  statement!  I  deny  its  truth.  I 
call  for  the  regular  order." 


WE  GIVE  BATTLE  185 

"Motion  to  adjourn  in  order,"  announced  Cornwell, 
hurriedly. 

"I  protest!"  I  shouted.  "I  cannot  be  taken  off  my 
feet  in  this  manner.  I  repeat,  there  is  a  shortage  of 
$156,000  in  the  city  treasury.  I " 

Pendergrast  was  standing  in  the  aisle,  glaring  at 
me,  his  red  and  brutal  face  malignly  contorted,  his 
lips  working,  his  fingers  twisting. 

"Move  we  adjourn!"  he  shouted. 

"You  can't  adjourn  until  I  finish!"  I  screamed,  but 
the  Pendergrast  men  immediately  began  to  chorus: 
"Adjourn !  Adjourn !"  Cornwell  pounded  on  his  desk 
with  the  gavel.  Nearly  everybody  was  on  his  feet. 
Dowd  was  leaning  forward,  watching  Pendergrast, 
who  had  taken  a  step  towards  me. 

I  raised  my  voice  to  its  uttermost  volume,  and 
shouted:  "Miller,  the  treasurer,  is  a  defaulter!" 

"I  deny  it!"  Pendergrast  shouted  in  return.  "It's 
a  political  lie!  Miller  is  straight!" 

Pendergrast  was  within  three  feet  of  me  then,  his 
head  pushed  forward,  his  chin  protruding,  his  lips 
compressed,  and  his  eyes  so  contracted  that  only  the 
pupils  showed.  I  was  conscious  of  nothing  but  that 
red  and  anger-distorted  face,  not  far  from  mine.  I 
forgot  my  speech,  forgot  'everything  but  Pendergrast, 
and  I  threw  out  my  hand  at  him,  and  screamed: 
"Furthermore,  this  man,  Pendergrast,  got  the  most 
of  the  money!" 

"Shut  up !"  yelled  Pendergrast.  "You  lie !  Shut  up, 
or  I'll  make  you!" 

He  struck  at  me,  caught  me  on  the  chest,  throwing 
me  off  my  balance  for  a  moment.  I  hit  back  at  him. 


1 86  HUNKINS 

As  he  rushed  in  at  me  to  grapple  me,  I  heard  shouts  of: 
"Throw  him  out  I  Throw  him  out!"  and  then,  the 
loud,  clear  command  of  Dowd : 

"All  right,  boys;  let's  go!" 

The  soldiers  pushed  aside  the  excited  spectators, 
and  sprung  over  the  backs  of  the  seats  into  the  en- 
closure. I  heard  a  whistle  outside,  and  the  slamming 
of  a  door.  Dowd  leaped  on  a  desk,  and  gave  his 
orders. 

"Grab  that  guy  there,  and  shove  him  back  in  his 
seat!"  He  pointed  to  Pendergrast.  Three  soldiers 
took  that  struggling,  profane  boss,  and  threw  him 
across  his  desk. 

"Hold  that  one  where  he  is !"  He  pointed  to  Corn- 
well,  and  three  soldiers  pinioned  that  astonished  pre- 
siding officer  to  his  chair. 

"Stop  that  guy!"  Charley  Elmer  had  started  for 
a  side  door.  He  was  hauled  back. 

"Push  in  the  faces  of  this  other  mob  if  they  won't 
sit  down."  Dowd  meant  the  Pendergrast  supporters, 
who  were  milling  about  ineffectively,  and  screaming: 
"Adjourn!  Adjourn!" 

"Sit  down!  Sit  down!"  ordered  the  soldiers,  and 
then  shoved  the  Pendergrast  men  into  such  chairs  as 
were  vacant.  The  Hunkins  men  stood  intensely  in- 
terested, but  taking  no  part  except  to  answer  the  cries 
of  the  Pendergrast  men  for  adjournment  with  a  ca- 
denced  clamor  of  "No !  No!  No!" 

Held  to  his  chair,  Pendergrast  roared  inarticulate 
curses  and  threats  at  me,  struggling  fiercely  with  the 
soldier^  One  of  them  put  a  big  hand  over  Pender- 


WE  GIVE  BATTLE  187 

grast's  mouth.  "Cheese  it,"  he  ordered,  "or  I'll  shut 
off  your  wind." 

"Meeting's  adjourned!"  Cornwell  repeated  at  quick 
intervals.  "Meeting's  adjourned!  All  out!  Meet- 
ing's adjourned!" 

"Not  yet!"  shouted  Dowd.  "Meeting's  still  go- 
ing on!" 

Meantime,  Charley  Elmer  was  fighting  like  a  fat 
wild  cat,  and  another  soldier  ran  over  to  assist  the 
two  who  held  him.  They  threw  Charley  to  the  floor, 
and  sat  on  him.  Pendergrast  pushed  the  soldier's  hand 
from  his  mouth  and  shouted:  "Kill  him!  Kill  the 

!"  He  made  a  tremendous  effort,  broke  away, 

and  rushed  at  me.  That  gave  courage  to  his  sup- 
porters, and  they  surged  up  at  the  soldiers.  I  found 
myself  in  a  grapple  with  Pendergrast,  who  was  beat- 
ing at  my  face  with  his  hairy  fist.  I  half  turned, 
swung  on  him,  and  missed  his  face,  but  hit  his  fat 
neck.  Dowd  jumped  from  the  desk  on  which  he  was 
standing,  caught  Pendergrast  by  the  shoulders,  pulled 
him  away,  and  with  one  mighty  shove  sent  him  sprawl- 
ing across  his  own  desk  again,  where  he  was  held  by 
four  men. 

I  got  a  confused  impression  of  the  rest  of  it.  The 
Hunkins  men  had  moved  over  against  the  rail,  still 
chorusing  their  noes.  Kilmany  had  Tony  Milano  bent 
over  a  desk  and  was  beating  him  in  the  face  and  shout- 
ing Gaelic  battle  cries  to  the  accompaniment  of  many 
Neapolitan  oaths  from  that  suffering  and  outraged 
padrone.  The  Professor  was  in  a  corner  wringing  his 
hands  and  exclaiming:  "Oh,  tut-tut;  rut-tut-tut  1" 
Each  Pendergrast  man  was  in  the  clutches  of  a  soldier 


1 88  HUNKINS 

who  lusted  for  warfare,  and  there  were  ten  separate 
and  meritorious  fights  in  progress  inside  those  rails. 
Half  a  dozen  of  the  soldiers  were  at  the  rear  of  the 
room,  holding  the  messengers  and  others  in  check,  and 
the  policeman,  who  guards  the  gate,  was  contemplat- 
ing the  scene  hysterically  and  profanely  from  the  em- 
bracing arms  of  three  of  our  men,  who  held  him,  but 
had  to  labor  mightily  to  do  it. 

There  was  a  wild  confusion  of  curses,  shouts  and 
the  grunts  and  imprecations  of  straining,  fighting  men. 
Pendergrast  had  collapsed  from  his  exertions,  and  lay 
limply  over  his  desk.  Cornwell  had  laid  out  a  soldier 
with  the  gavel,  and  freed  his  right  hand.  He  was 
hammering  and  shouting:  "Meeting's  adjourned! 
Meeting's  adjourned!" 

The  reporters,  including  Steve  Fox,  were  the  only 
calm  persons  in  the  room,  for  even  the  spectators  had 
joined  in  the  clamor.  The  reporters  stood  on  their 
desks,  commenting  to  one  another  on  the  row,  and 
making  notes,  now  and  then,  of  what  they  saw. 

Dowd  rushed  back  to  me.  "Finish  your  speech!" 
he  yelled  in  my  ear.  "They  may  get  the  police  here 
any  minute!" 

I  clambered  on  a  desk,  and  shouted  out  my  facts. 
I  had  forgotten  what  I  had  prepared,  and  what  I 
gave  forth  was  a  series  of  whoops  and  screeches : 

"Shortage  in  sinking  fund — Miller  defaulter — Pen- 
dergrast and  his  gang  got  the  money — seven  of  them — 
Miller  didn't  steal  a  cent — they  stole  it — Pendergrast 
got  $47,000 — Larrimore  got  $32,000 — trying  to  cover 
it  up — can't  do  it — demand  investigation — outrage  on 
city  that  thieves  like  this  are  out  of  jail — Pendergrast 


WE  GIVE  BATTLE  189 

chief  robber — all  culpable — have  the  proof — straight 
goods — " 

At  that  moment  a  Pendergrast  man  freed  himself 
from  his  captors,  grabbed  my  legs  and  pulled  me  off 
the  desk.  I  fell  on  top  of  him,  and  for  a  short  space, 
had  no  interest  in  the  proceedings  other  than  to  keep 
my  colleague  from  gouging  out  one  of  my  eyes.  We 
rolled  and  fought  over  the  floor.  He  was  most  per- 
sistent in  his  attempt  to  eliminate  that  eye.  I  hit  him 
in  the  face  as  hard  as  I  could,  and  as  often,  but  he 
only  snorted,  and  kept  digging  for  my  eye. 

"Hold  him  a  minute!"  I  dimly  heard  Dowd  say. 
He  ran  past  me.  I  heard  a  loud  cry  at  the  door. 
"Ten  men  in  here,  quick!"  Then,  a  moment  later, 
the  eye-seeker  was  pulled  from  my  embrace,  and  I 
staggered  up,  a  dusty,  disheveled,  bleeding  young  cru- 
sader against  corrupt  politics. 

The  reinforcements  made  the  work  of  quieting  down 
the  Pendergrast  followers  quick  and  effective.  They 
jammed  them  in  their  chairs.  I  shook  my  fist  at  Corn- 
well,  then  under  complete  restraint,  and  shouted: 
"Now,  damn  you,  adjourn  if  you  want  to !" 

The  boys  had  not  been  any  too  careful  in  their  deal- 
ings with  Cornwell.  When  he  was  released  he  croaked 
again:  "Meeting's  adjourned."  Pendergrast  was  ex- 
hausted. Fat  and  liquor  operated  against  him,  although 
his  spirit  was  still  undaunted  and  his  anger  malignant. 
"Kill  you  for  this!"  he  gasped  at  me.  "Kill  you, 
sure's  my  name's  Pendergrast." 

Davidson  ran  into  the  room  from  the  corridor, 
and  blew  his  whistle.  Every  soldier  let  go  what  he 
was  holding,  and  turned  towards  him. 


1 9o  HUNKINS 

"Police  coming  1"  shouted  Davidson.    "Beat  it  I" 

"Beat  it!"  echoed  Dowd. 

The  soldiers  broke  away,  rushed  for  the  door,  and 
disappeared  in  the  corridor.  I  hurried  to  the  reporters 
and  gave  them  copies  of  the  statement  of  the  account- 
ants, and  of  the  speech  I  intended  to  deliver. 

"Give  us  an  interview,"  they  insisted. 

"Nothing  more  to  say,"  I  spluttered  at  them,  still 
breathing  hard  from  my  tangle  on  the  floor,  and  some- 
what concerned  over  a  nose  that  bled  profusely,  and 
a  rapidly  closing  eye. 

"Come  on,  TalbotI"  Dowd  shouted,  and  I  ran  out 
and  joined  him  and  Davidson  in  the  corridor,  leaving 
the  aldermanic  chamber  occupied  by  thirty  or  forty 
spectators  so  excited  they  had  difficulty  in  making  com- 
ment on  the  situation  of  apter  bearing  than:  "Well, 
what  the  hell  do  you  know  about  that?" 

The  Hunkins  men  followed  me  out,  excited,  too, 
but  virtuous  withal.  They  had  acted  decorously  as 
interested  and  innocent  bystanders,  and  were  conscious 
of  exceeding  rectitude.  Kilmany  caught  up  with  us 
and  reproached  me  bitterly  for  not  telling  him  about 
it  in  advance.  "I'd  brought  my  bit  of  blackthorn  if 
I  thought  there'd  be  anything  so  interestin',"  he  said, 
"but,  at  that,  I  clouted  that  rapscallion  Tony  Milano 
a  few  that  was  comin'  to  him." 

"How  did  the  police  get  wise?"  asked  Dowd  of 
Davidson. 

"I  dunno.  I  had  men  at  every  door  and  at  every 
telephone  booth.  Some  one  got  out,  but  it's  all  right. 
We've  made  our  getaway.  I  had  the  tip  from  Mike 
McDermott,  who  served  with  me  and  is  back  on  the 


WE  GIVE  BATTLE  191 

force.  He  is  the  outside  man  to-night,  and  didn't 
bother  any  for  the  sake  of  old  times.  He  told  me 
to  beat  it." 

Dowd  passed  the  word  for  the  men  to  scatter,  and 
they  vanished  through  every  door  on  the  main  floor, 
which  let  them  out  quickly,  as  our  City  Hall  stands 
in  a  square  by  itself  and  has  four  large  entrances. 
We  went  out  the  door  leading  to  Main  Street.  As 
we  walked  down  the  steps  two  patrol  automobiles 
came  clanging  up  and  a  dozen  policemen  jumped  out 
of  each,  and  started  in  on  the  double  quick,  with  Lieu- 
tenant Pat  Bristol  leading.  Dowd  pushed  me  into  a 
shadow  so  my  blood-smeared  face  would  not  be  seen, 
and  shouted  at  Bristol:  "Hello,  Paddy!  What's  up?" 

"Riot  in  aldermen's  rooms.  Heard  anything  about 
it?" 

"Not  a  thing,"  Dowd  replied,  blandly,  and  he 
hustled  me  into  a  taxi-cab,  standing  at  the  curb,  gave 
the  driver  my  home  address,  and  got  in  with  me. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "we  put  that  over  without  heavy 
casualties ;  but  Pendergrast  would  have  plugged  you  if 
he  had  had  a  gun.  Who  is  tKe  gent  who  tapped  you 
on  the  beak?" 

I  laughed.  Tommie  reverted  to  type  in  the  fight. 
He  was  a  sergeant  of  the  A.  E.  F.  then,  not  a  lawyer. 

"Masters,  I  think." 

"Masters?  He's  a  bar-room  scrapper.  Wonder 
he  didn't  gouge  you." 

"He  tried,"  I  said,  "and  I  had  a  devil  of  a  time 
keeping  him  from  succeeding." 

"Masters  comes  from  my  ward,"  said  Tommie, 
"and  he  has  an  ugly  thumb.  One  twist,  if  he  gets  his 


S92  HUNKINS 

location  right,  and  you're  shy  an  eye  forever  after. 
Pleasant  party  to  mix  with,  Masters  is." 

"Anybody  get  you?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  Skidmore  beaned  me  once.  It  doesn't  amount 
to  much,  and  I  slammed  him  one  that  he  won't  forget 
before  morning." 

"Well,"  I  said,  "what's  the  net  result?" 

"More  publicity  than  rival  circuses  playing  the  same 
date.  The  newspapers  will  be  full  of  it.  You'll  get 
credit  for  spilling  it.  Pendergrast  will  try  to  start 
something  by  having  us  arrested,  but  that  won't  amount 
to  anything.  Miller  will  break  down  and  confess,  and 
Hunkins  will  probably  elect  his  mayor  next  fall." 

"I'm  sorry  for  Miller,"  I  said. 

"So  am  I,  but  he'll  have  to  take  what  is  coming. 
These  other  fellows  probably  will  get  off,  especially  if 
they  refund,  which  they  will  do  now,  somehow." 

I  couldn't  get  easy-going,  soft-hearted,  vain  Miller 
tout  of  my  mind. 

"It's  a  tough  game,  politics,"  I  said. 

"It  is,"  assented  Dowd,  "when  you  play  it  with 
jtough  people." 

"That's  what  Hunkins  says.** 

"Well,  Hunkins  knows." 

Dowd  bade  me  good-by  at  the  door,  telling  me  to 
tall  for  him  immediately  if  I  am  served  with  a  warrant. 
"Hope  you  will  be,"  he  said,  "now  that  you  are  into 
it.  The  longer  we  can  keep  this  thing  stirred  up  the 
better  it  will  be  for  the  success  of  it.  Good  night. 
Glad  none  of  your  lady  friends  will  see  you  with  that 
battle-scarred  map  on  you." 


WE  GIVE  BATTLE  193 

Dad  was  in  his  little  room,  "Hello,  George  I"  he 
called.  "Come  in  a  minute,  will  you?" 

I  went  in.  Dad  looked  at  me  and  laughed.  "What 
have  you  been  doing?"  he  asked.  "Cleaning  up  a 
bar-room?" 

"Not  exactly.  I've  been  cleaning  up  Tom  Fender- 
grast  and  his  gang." 

"Well,"  he  said,  "judging  from  appearances,  they 
protested  to  some  effect  against  your  endeavors.  Tell 
me  about  it." 

"Wait  until  I  put  something  on  this  eye."  I  went 
upstairs,  washed  the  blood  from  my  face,  doctored 
my  eye,  and  brushed  the  dust  from  my  clothes.  Then 
I  came  down  and  told  Dad  the  whole  story,  omitting 
no  detail  either  of  preliminary,  action  or  language. 

As  I  finished  he  said:  "Well,  I'll  be  darned!  To 
think  that  you  should  fall  into  a  rich  and  juicy  rumpus 
like  that.  I  haven't  had  a  time  like  that  since  the 
mugwumps  tried  to  get  a  Elaine  convention  to  adopt 
resolutions  endorsing  Cleveland.  Why  didn't  you 
give  me  a  chance  to  see  it?" 

"Oh,  I  thought  I  wouldn't  tell  you  until  after  it  was 
over.  I  didn't  know  how  you'd  feel  about  it." 

"Feel  about  it?  If  you  hadn't  done  it  I'd  have  dis- 
owned you,  and  if  you  let  them  bluff  you,  now  you 
have  done  it,  I'll  do  worse  than  that." 

I  had  three  personal  telephone  calls  before  I  went 
to  bed,  and  a  dozen  or  so  from  the  newspapers,  want- 
ing interviews  and  detail.  I  told  all  the  newspapers 
I  had  nothing  further  to  say.  The  last  call  was  from 
Steve  Fox. 

"We've  got  a  nine-column  spread  on  it,"  Steve  re- 


i94  HUNKINS 

ported,  "with  a  seven-column,  two-line  head  on  the 
first  page,  and  a  three-column  cut  of  you.  Your  speech 
and  the  statement  are  in  bold  face  in  a  box  on  the 
first  page,  also,  and  an  interview  with  Pendergrast  in 
which  he  calls  you  seventy-seven  different  kinds  of  a 
liar,  and  says  you  will  be  arrested  and  sent  to  prison 
for  life  for  libel,  treason,  interfering  with  public  busi- 
ness, rioting,  arson,  attempted  murder,  and  various 
other  high  crimes  and  misdemeanors.  The  artist  has 
a  bully  picture  of  the  scrap.  Miller  can't  be  found, 
but  the  boss  has  written  a  screamer  of  an  editorial, 
triple  leaded,  calling  for  his  immediate  arrest,  denounc- 
ing Pendergrast  and  the  others  as  equally  culpable,  and 
calling  you  a  grand  young  man.  The  other  morning 
rag  is  doing  about  the  same,  except  that  it  casts  doubt 
on  it,  and  calls  for  the  facts  as  based  on  examination, 
and  not  on  your  statement  and  plays  up  Pendergrast's 
denial.  They  reserve  comment  on  you,  as  an  insect 
not  yet  classified,  so  Arthur  Brinker  just  'phoned  me." 

The  second  call  was  from  Hunkins.  "I  understand 
a  pleasant  time  was  had,"  he  said.  "Just  wanted  to 
assure  you  that  I  have  all  the  details,  and  congratulate 
you  on  a  good  job.  Don't  worry  about  Pendergrast. 
He'll  have  so  much  trouble  of  his  own  by  to-morrow 
night  that  he'll  forget  all  about  you.  It  is  great.  I'll 
want  to  talk  to  you  to-morrow.  We're  off  to  a  flying 
start." 

The  first  call  was  from  Miss  Crawford.  "I  was 
there,"  she  said,  "and  saw  it  all.  Mr.  Dowd  told 
me  about  it  this  afternoon,  and  I  put  on  a  black  dress 
and  a  veil,  and  went  in  the  capacity  of  a  widow  who 
wants  a  street  assessment  cancelled,  or  something  like 


WE  GIVE  BATTLE  195 

that.  I  sat  over  in  a  corner,  and  shouted  as  loudly 
as  anybody  for  your  side.  Weren't  the  soldiers  fine? 
I  congratulate  you." 

That  made  me  forget  my  sore  nose. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  STRATEGY  OF  HUNKINS 

NEXT  morning  early  I  telephoned  to  Charley 
Adkins,  who  is  the  head  barber  at  the  Ath- 
letic Club  and  an  artist  at  eye  camouflage. 
He  came  to  the  house  at  eight  o'clock  to 
restore  my  eye  to  a  passable  semblance  of  its  former 
pristine  beauty.    Hot  compresses  reduced  my  nose  to 
an  approximation  of  its  usual  shape,  color  and  size. 
While  Charley  worked  I  read  the  papers  as  well  as  I 
could  with  one  eye.     Indeed,  I  only  needed  half  an 
eye,  for  the  front  pages  of  the  News  and  the  Globe 
had  little  else  on  them. 

The  News  treated  the  charges  as  substantiated.  My 
picture,  in  my  captain's  uniform,  stuck  out  of  the  page 
at  me  like  a  lighthouse  in  a  fog.  The  line  under  it 
was:  "Captain  George  Talbot,  the  patriotic  young 
Alderman  from  the  Second  Ward,  who  made  the 
exposure." 

"Hold  still!"  said  Charley,  after  I  had  read  that. 
I  was  swelling  some.  My  speech  and  the  statement  of 
the  accountants  were  in  bold  face  type,  in  a  box,  and 
as  I  read  that  speech  I  swelled  some  more,  much  to 
the  disgust  of  Charley,  who  stopped  and  said:  "Darn 
it,  if  you  don't  keep  still  I'll  never  get  this  lamp  of 
yours  fixed."  It  wasn't  the  speech  I  made,  of  course, 

196 


THE  STRATEGY  OF  HUNKINS       197 

but  the  speech  I  intended  to  make.  After  reading  that 
masterly  effort  three  or  four  times  I  ran  my  good  eye 
over  what  Steve  had  written. 

Steve's  story  was  a  graphic,  three-column  recital 
of  the  whole  affair,  from  beginning  to  end,  done  in, 
short  paragraphs,  tersely,  and  vividly.  I  was  right 
back  in  it  as  I  read,  for  Steve  is  a  good  reporter. 
Then  I  read  the  editorial,  a  smashing  denunciation 
of  Pendergrast  and  his  gang,  calling  for  their  imme- 
diate arrest  and  punishment.  Miller  was  treated  as 
a  weak  tool.  There  was  a  lot  of  information  about 
the  treasury,  statistics  about  the  various  funds,  a  re- 
hash of  the  doings  of  the  Spearle  administration,  a 
short  biography  of  myself,  and  various  other  explana- 
tory and  contributory  sections.  In  all,  it  filled  ten  col- 
umns. I  felt  important  and  righteous  after  I  looked 
it  all  over. 

Then  I  took  the  Globe,  and  the  importance  and 
righteousness  began  to  seep  out  of  me.  My  picture 
was  on  the  first  page  of  that  paper,  also,  but  it  was 
not  three  columns  wide.  It  was  a  scant  one-column 
inset  in  the  bottom  of  a  picture  of  Pendergrast  that 
had  the  three-column  splurge.  The  caption  for  Pen- 
dergrast was:  "Thomas  Pendergrast,  the  assailed 
leader  who  categorically  denies  the  truth  of  the  state- 
ments made;"  and  my  caption  read:  "Talbot,  who 
made  the  charge." 

My  speech  and  the  statement  of  the  accountants  were 
on  the  first  page,  but  in  ordinary  body  type,  and  the 
Globe's  display  was  for  the  interview  with  Pendergrast 
who  began  by  saying  that  I  am  a  liar,  a  perjurer,  a 
political  tool  of  Hunkins,  a  weak-minded  boy  led  into 


198  HUNKINS 

this  by  designing  politicians  who  are  curs  and  cowards 
too  crafty  to  make  the  charge  themselves,  and  utilized 
my  congenital  idiocy,  lack  of  political  knowledge  and 
general  pathetic  inexperience  of  city  affairs  to  make  me 
the  stalking  horse  in  this  unparalleled  outrage  against 
honest  and  patriotic  citizens ;  and  gradually  worked  up 
to  some  real,  fancy  denunciation.  Pendergrast  denied, 
called  on  high  Heaven  to  witness  the  falsity  of  the 
charge,  demanded  an  instant  investigation,  and  as- 
serted his  own  innocence  in  every  paragraph. 

He  closed  with  a  few  further  reflections  on  myself 
tending  to  prove  that  I  should  be  interned,  permanent- 
ly, in  an  asylum,  and  expressed  great  regret  that  I  had 
so  hideously  brought  dishonor  on  the  revered  name 
of  my  father,  John  J.  Talbot,  a  respected  and  high- 
minded  citizen;  and,  as  a  postscript,  remarked  that  im- 
mediate steps  will  be  taken  to  jail  myself  and  my  fel- 
low ruffians.  Later,  Steve  Fox  told  me  that  Arthur 
Brinker,  of  the  Globe,  wrote  the  interview  for  Pen- 
dergrast. I  bow  to  Arthur.  He  knows  how  to  call  a 
person  out  of  his  name. 

(Charley  Adkins  had  great  difficulty  in  operating 
while  I  read  that.  My  good  eye  saw  red.  I  hustled 
Adkins  through  and  was  about  to  rush  out  to  slay 
Pendergrast  when  Kinsley,  stationed  at  the  telephone 
to  tell  everybody  I  am  out,  came  into  the  room.  Kins- 
ley was  my  mess  sergeant  in  France,  a  handy  man,  and 
now  works  in  our  garage.  "Captain,"  he  said,  "there's 
one  guy  who  won't  stand  for  the  usual  song-and-dance. 
Says  his  name  is  Hunkins,  and  wants  to  talk  to  you, 
immediate."  I  went  to  the  telephone. 

"Good  morning,  Captain,"  I  heard.    "This  is  Hun- 


THE  STRATEGY  OF  HUNKINS        199 

kins.  Suppose  you've  seen  the  papers.  We've  started 
well,  anyhow.  What  I  want  to  advise  is  this:  Please 
do  not  talk  to  any  person  for  publication  to-day.  Don't 
say  a  word.  Let  it  stand  as  it  is.  I  have  particular 
reasons  for  this  which  I'll  explain  if  you  will  come 
around  to  my  house  at  five  o'clock  this  afternoon." 

"What  about  that  Pendergrast  attack  on  me?" 

"Let  him  rave.  When  you've  been  in  politics  a  little 
longer  you  won't  mind  stuff  like  that.  Besides,  he's 
only  making  it  worse  for  himself.  See  you  at  five,  I 
hope." 

"All  right,"  I  said,  "I'll  be  there,  but  I  really  should 
make  Pendergrast  take  this  stuff  back." 

"Forget  it.    It's  all  in  the  game." 

I  wasn't  quite  so  sure  about  that,  and  decided  I'd 
go  down  and  have  a  talk  with  Dowd.  I  found  him 
reading  the  papers. 

"Hello,  Captain,"  he  greeted  me.  "I  see  by  the 
News  that  we  are  champions  of  pure  politics  and  by 
the  Globe  that  we  are  criminals  of  the  deepest  dye. 
Otherwise,  what's  the  good  word?" 

"That's  what  I  came  to  ask  you." 

"Paddy  Bristol  the  policeman  was  in  to  see  me  this 
morning.  Paddy  and  I  are  old  friends.  He  says  the 
talk  around  the  City  Hall  is  that  the  whole  lot  of  us, 
but  principally  you  and  I,  are  to  be  arrested  presently 
on  the  charge  of  violating  the  sanctity  of  aldermanic 
proceedings,  or  something  heinous  like  that.  He  tells 
me  the  police  are  out  now  trying  to  get  the  names  of 
the  boys.  Heard  from  Hunkins?" 

"Yes.     He  advised  me  to  say  nothing  to-day,  and 


200  HUNKINS 

asked  me  to  come  around  to  see  him  at  five  o'clock 
this  afternoon." 

"That's  all  right.  Give  the  afternoon  papers  a 
chance  to  go  to  it." 

"How  will  they  handle  it?" 

"Same  way.  The  Times  will  support  us,  and  the 
Dispatch  will  play  up  the  Pendergrast  end  of  it.  The 
Journal  will  bang  both  sides  and  yell  for  a  socialistic 
government.  I  suppose  they  will  force  a  denial  from 
Miller,  and  I'll  bet  Pendergrast  spent  all  of  last  night 
trying  to  get  that  money  together.  Suppose  Hunkins 
has  anything  further?" 

"I  don't  know.     That's  all  he  showed  me." 

"Well,  that's  enough.  Stick  around  until  the  noon 
editions  come  out." 

"But  what  about  that  Pendergrast  attack  on  me?" 

"Let  it  ride.  It  isn't  hurting  you  any,  and  it  prob- 
ably will  have  a  frightful  kick-back  before  we're 
through.  I  am  no  particular  champion  of  Hunkins, 
but  he  didn't  go  into  this  not  knowing  what  he  is  doing. 
That's  a  cinch." 

The  noon  editions,  which  came  out  at  half  past  ten, 
took  up  the  story  avidly.  As  Dowd  predicted,  the 
Times  story  was  along  News  lines,  and  the  Dispatch 
had  a  new  and  more  violent  interview  with  Pender- 
grast. It  also  developed  that  the  two  senior  members 
of  the  firm  of  accountants,  Brooks  and  Hubbell,  are 
fishing  at  Miami,  and  that  Ernest  Plaisted  refused  to 
comment  in  any  way  on  the  findings  of  the  firm  beyond 
stating  that  I  had  quoted  them  correctly,  and  that 
the  firm  had  made  the  investigation,  with  the  results 
as  shown.  Pendergrast  intimated,  in  his  afternoon 


THE  STRATEGY  OF  HUNKINS       101 

interview,  that  the  accountants  had  been  "reached." 
The  Journal  said  everybody  concerned  is  a  villain  and 
a  traitor  to  the  best  interests  of  the  people,  and  de- 
manded that  all  of  us  shall  be  turned  out  and  socialists 
installed. 

The  main  feature  of  the  spreads  in  the  noon  edi- 
tions of  the  afternoon  papers  was  a  brief  denial  from 
Miller,  who  was  found  at  the  city  treasurer's  office 
at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  very  nervous  and 
shaken,  in  consultation  with  Pendergrast.  He  gave 
out  his  statement  in  typewritten  form,  and  refused  to 
say  anything  further.  Miller  said:  "The  story  is 
manufactured  from  whole  cloth.  All  funds  are  in- 
tact. I  demand  an  investigation."  That  was  all. 

"Sit  tight,"  advised  Dowd,  as  I  left.  "If  they  ar- 
rest you  get  in  touch  with  me  immediately.  I'll  see 
you  to-night  after  you've  talked  with  Hunkins." 

I  went  up  to  Dad's  office  and  found  him  deep  in  the 
News.  "Guess  I'm  wrong  about  this  paper,"  he  said., 
"Seems  to  be  quite  a  sheet.  I  think  I'll  subscribe  for 
it  again." 

I  told  Dad  what  Dowd  said  about  the  possibility 
of  arrest,  and  of  my  engagement  with  Hunkins. 

"Don't  let  that  arrest  business  bother  you,"  said 
Dad.  "Miller  will  be  in  jail  before  to-morrow  night. 
I  know  that  firm  of  Brooks,  Hubbell  and  Plaisted,  and 
if  they  say  there's  a  shortage  in  the  city  treasury,  after 
they  have  examined  the  books,  I'll  bet  my  life  there  is 
a  shortage,  and  exactly  as  much  as  they  set  down,  to 
the  cent.  How's  your  eye?"  . 

"All  right.  I  had  it  patched  up  a  little.  Coming 
out  to  lunch?" 


202  HUNKINS 

"Yes;  let's  go  up  to  the  club  and  see  how  that  ag- 
gregation feels  on  the  subject." 

The  smoking  room  was  crowded,  and  most  of  the 
members  had  the  second  editions  of  the  afternoon 
papers  that  come  out  at  half  past  twelve.  I  glanced 
at  the  Dispatch,  and  noticed  that  Miller  amplified  his 
denial  a  little,  and  that  he  had  a  second  consultation 
with  Pendergrast.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  excited 
and  indefinite  City  Hall  comment  in  the  papers,  includ- 
ing a  masterly  straddle  by  Spearle  who,  as  mayor,  said : 
"This  matter  comes  as  lightning  out  of  a  clear  sky  to 
me.  I  have  not  investigated  it  as  yet,  and  until  that 
time  I  shall  make  no  comment.  The  people  of  our 
city,  however,  may  rest  assured  that  no  stone  will  be 
left  unturned  in  that  investigation,  which  will  be  con- 
ducted without  fear  or  favor,  and  if  these  charges  are 
proved  the  guilty  will  be  punished  to  the  fullest  limit 
of  the  law.  If  not,  the  men  who  falsely  make  them  will 
be  made  to  suffer  for  their  libels.  Meantime,  it  will 
be  well  for  all  citizens  to  suspend  judgment  until  the 
facts  are  ascertained." 

Dad  and  I  read  that  together.  "Foxy  Spearle," 
commented  Dad,  "he  can  jump  either  way  now,  but 
I  do  wish  he  would  pay  more  attention  to  his  wills  and 
shalls.  Pendergrast  will  be  sore  when  he  sees  that. 
He  probably  put  the  screws  on  Spearle  for  something 
stronger." 

We  were  greeted  with  acclaim  tempered  with  con- 
sfderable  reserve.  Mr.  Perkins  sidled  up  and  said: 
"Of  course,  George,  I  congratulate  you — if  it  is  true; 
but  don't  you  think  it  might  have  been  done  a  little  less 
sensationally?  Couldn't  it  have  been  arranged  by  a 


THE  STRATEGY  OF  HUNKINS       203 

quiet  conference  so  that  it  might  not  have  been  bruited 
about  in  this  scandalous  manner.  I  feel  that  the  fair 
name  of  the  city  will  suffer." 

"Oh,  hell!"  said  Dad,  bristling.  "You  make  me 
tired,  Perkins,  with  your  talk  about  secrecy  and  the 
fair  name  of  the  city.  One  might  think  you  are  in  it 
yourself." 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir?"  asked  Perkins,  with  great 
indignation. 

"Nothing — yet." 

Perkins  spluttered,  and  insisted  on  an  explanation, 
but  Dad  waved  him  away,  and  we  went  up  to  the 
dining-room. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Dad?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  I  just  took  a  shot  at  that  Pecksniff  for  the 
fun  of  it.  Maybe  I  landed.  I  don't  know.  Want 
oysters?" 

Most  of  the  men  at  lunch  came  over  to  our  table 
and  expressed  solemn  opinions.  The  impression  I  re- 
ceived from  it  all  was  that  it  was  a  good  thing  to  do, 
but  that  I  was  a  fool  to  do  it.  Fred  Daskin  was  par- 
ticularly loud  in  his  condemnation  of  the  futility  of  my 
action. 

"It  don't  get  you  anywhere,"  he  said.  "For  a  couple 
of  days  you'll  be  a  little  tin  god,  if  it's  true,  and  then 
some  haberdasher  will  run  away  with  a  blonde  mani- 
cure from  the  Schoolcraft,  and  you'll  vanish  from  the 
news.  Besides,  a  lot  of  people  are  beholden  to  that 
chap  Pendergrast,  in  one  way  or  another,  and  they  will 
all  have  their  fingers  crossed  on  you  forever.  Much 
easier  if  you  had  let  some  of  the  regular  muckers  do 
it,  or  are  you  one  of  the  regular  muckers  now?" 


204  HUNKINS 

I  felt  like  smashing  him,  but  I  restrained  myself 
and  said,  pleasantly  as  my  choking  anger  would  allow: 
"I'm  whatever  you  are  not,  Fred.  If  that's  a  regular 
mucker,  so  be  it." 

"No  accounting  for  tastes,"  he  commented,  as  he 
walked  away. 

"By  heck,"  said  Dad,  "it  will  take  a  soviet  to  jolt 
this  crowd  out  of  the  smug  appreciation  of  their  own 
superiority." 

The  final  editions  of  the  afternoon  papers,  which 
came  on  the  streets  at  half  past  four,  contained  a  re- 
vised and  more  forceful  denial  from  Miller,  and  the 
first  intimation  from  Pendergrast  that  action  might  be 
taken  against  the  accountants. 

"What  do  you  make  of  it?"  I  asked  Dowd,  over  the 
telephone. 

"Looks  to  me  as  if  they  had  scraped  the  money  to- 
gether to  cover,"  he  answered,  "but  that  makes  no 
difference.  I'm  still  banking  on  Hunkins.  Haven't 
been  arrested  yet,  have  you?" 

"Not  yet." 

"Neither  have  I,  but  Davidson  tells  me  the  police 
captain  of  his  precinct  sweated  him  an  hour  this  morn- 
ing for  the  names  of  the  boys." 

"Did  he  tell  them?" 

"Sure ;  after  the  proper  amount  of  hesitation  to  im- 
press the  police;  why  not?  They  will  never  be 
pinched.  I'm  certain  of  that." 

When  I  reached  Hunkins's  house,  at  five  o'clock, 
I  found  Steve  Fox  there. 

"I  asked  Steve  to  come  over  because  what  I  am  go- 


THE  STRATEGY  OF  HUNKINS       205 

ing  to  tell  you  concerns  him,  also.  How  are  you  feel- 
ing?" 

"All  right.  I  don't  understand  this  gradual  increase 
in  confidence  by  Pendergrast,  though." 

"They're  bluffing.  They  think  we've  fired  all  our 
ammunition." 

"Haven't  we?" 

Hunkins  laughed.  "We  have  not,"  he  said.  "What 
happened  last  night  was  merely  the  preliminary  bar- 
rage." 

"I  don't  understand,"  I  said,  and  I  could  see  Steve's 
eyes  glisten  in  anticipation. 

"You,  as  a  soldier,  wouldn't  think  very  highly  of 
a  general  who  attacked  with  his  full  strength  and  held 
no  reserves  ready,  would  you?" 

"Not  much." 

"Then,  if  you  will  pardon  my  assumption,  for  a 
moment,  of  the  position  of  general  in  this  enterprise, 
I  have  some  reserves." 

"What?"  exclaimed  Steve  and  I,  together. 

Hunkins  pulled  out  a  drawer  of  his  desk,  and  took 
from  it  half  a  dozen  photographs.  "These,"  he  said, 
handing  the  photographs  to  us. 

We  looked  at  the  pictures  eagerly.  They  were 
photographs  of  the  I.  O.  U.'s  given  by  several  of  the 
men  who  got  the  money  from  Miller.  There  was  one 
that  was  dated  two  years  back,  and  was  in  the  sprawly 
handwriting  of  Pendergrast.  "I.  O.  U.  $23,000."  The 
signature  was  "Thos.  Pendergrast,"  and  below,  writ- 
ten in  the  same  hand,  was  "To  William  Miller."  The 
Others  were  for  various  amounts,  and  were  signed 


206  HUNKINS 

by  four  of  the  seven  men  implicated  in  the  transac- 
tions. 

"How  did  you  get  these?"  I  asked,  excitedly,  while 
Steve  gloated  over  them,  whistling  softly  between  his 
teeth. 

"Well,"  said  Hunkins,  "I  guess  you  ought  to  know, 
and  I'll  tell  you,  but  it  is  for  your  own  information. 
It  was  a  hard  job,  for  Miller  kept  the  originals  in  a 
private  compartment  in  a  private  safe  in  the  treasury, 
and  with  them  he  kept  a  private  ledger  carrying  the 
details  of  these  transactions.  We  took  the  precau- 
tion to  photograph  a  page  or  two  of  the  ledger  also." 

Hunkins  reached  into  the  drawer  again,  and 
brought  out  two  more  photographs  palpably  of  pages 
of  a  ledger  or  account  book,  and  debiting  Pendergrast, 
Larrimore,  Skidmore  and  the  rest  with  various  sums. 

"Great!"  I  exclaimed.    "Now  we've  got  them." 

"We've  had  them  all  the  time,"  corrected  Hunkins, 
mildly.  "But  to  return  to  the  photographs.  While 
this  money  was  borrowed  for  a  company  exploitation 
of  a  mine  in  Arizona  it  is  evident  that  Miller  insisted 
on  personal  obligations  as  well  as  the  company  obliga- 
tion. He  refused  to  give  up  unless  each  member  in- 
dividually pledged  himself  for  whatever  share  he  car- 
ried. Hence,  we  have  the  goods  on  them,  personally. 

"Miller  is  an  easy-going,  lazy  man,  and  that  fact 
was  our  great  aid.  It  was  well  enough  known  about 
the  office  that  he  never  went  to  the  pains  of  learning 
the  combinations  of  the  safes.  The  big  one  is  a  time- 
lock,  and  when  it  is  shut  it  is  shut  for  keeps.  So  far 
as  the  general  books  are  concerned,  our  friend  found 
a  way  to  hold  them  one  night  when  he  worked  late  over 


THE  STRATEGY  OF  HUNKINS       207 

a  Saturday  and  Sunday.  That  was  easy  enough,  for 
when  we  had  the  lead  pointed  out  to  us  we  found  the 
crooked  figures  without  difficulty.  Then  the  problem 
was  to  get  the  personal  evidence  which  we  knew  ex- 
isted because  my  friend  in  the  office  got  a  glimpse  at 
it  one  day  when  Miller  was  examining  it.  That  was 
a  stumper,  for  it  was  in  the  private  safe,  and  Miller 
carried  the  combination  for  that.  Of  course,  we  might 
have  blown  it  open.  I  have  a  friend  or  two  who  are 
experts  in  that  line,  but  that  was  not  to  be  considered. 
So  it  took  some  work  of  which  I  am  not  particularly 
proud,  but  that  I  excuse  on  the  ground  of  necessity. 

"The  lazy-minded  Miller  has  these  combinations 
written  down  in  a  little  book,  which  he  carries  in  his 
wallet.  Every  time  he  opened  the  safe  he  consulted 
that  book.  Foolish  of  him,  but  our  salvation.  If  he 
had  carried  the  combinations  in  his  head  we  would  have 
been  beaten.  Anyhow,  without  going  into  details,  we 
got  that  book  and  had  it  long  enough  to  copy  the  com- 
binations. After  that  it  was  simply  a  job  of  fitting 
the  combinations  to  the  private  safe.  When  Miller 
was  out  of  town  one  night,  a  handy  friend  from  the 
burglar  protection  company  did  a  few  things  to  the 
burglar  alarms,  and  we  got  the  stuff,  took  it  to  a  pho- 
tographer, had  it  photographed,  hustled  it  back,  closed 
the  safe,  fixed  the  alarms,  and  here  it  is.  Do  you  think 
you  have  influence  enough  in  the  News  office  to  have 
these  photographs  reproduced  on  the  first  page  in  the 
morning,  Steve?" 

"Do  I?"  said  Steve.  "I  can  get  them  reproduced 
on  sixteen  pages;  but,  say " 

"What  is  it?" 


ao8  HUNKINS 

"You  are  not  giving  these  to  the  Globe,  are  you?" 
"I  am  not.  They're  yours,  exclusively.  We'll  let 
the  Globe  wallow  in  it  once  more.  Undoubtedly,  owing 
to  the  fact  that  Talbot  has  said  nothing  further,  and, 
I  presume,  because  they  may  have  refunded  at  least 
a  part  of  the  money,  they  think  they  can  bluff  it  out, 
and  I  look  to  see  Brother  Pendergrast  come  to  bat 
again  in  the  morning  with  further  protestations  of  his 
great  rectitude.  I'd  like  to  hold  them  off  a  day  or  so 
more,  but  don't  think  that  expedient.  We'll  just  smash 
them  with  these  in  the  morning,  and  take  my  word 
for  it,  Miller  won't  stand  the  gaff  and  will  be  wailing 
out  a  confession  before  noon,  and  Pendergrast  will  be 
up  the  tallest  tree  he  has  ever  been  up  in  his  crafty 


career." 


1 


CHAPTER  XIX 

PERKINS  NEEDS   $4O,OOO 

way  Steve  spread  those  pictures  of  the 
I.  O.  U.'s  and  of  the  two  pages  of  the  private 
ledger  over  the  front  page  of  the  News  was 
a  marvel  of  effective  newspaper  display. 
They  were  across  the  top,  down  the  middle,  across  the 
bottom  and  in  the  corners,  and  with  them  such  type  as 
there  was  room  for,  calling  attention  to  their  condemna- 
tory proof  of  the  fact  that  Miller  had  given  out  this  city 
money,  andthatPendergrast  and  his  friends  had  taken  it. 

"GUILT  OF  GANG  PROVED  BY 
THEIR  OWN  SIGNATURES  1" 

ran  in  two  heavy,  black  lines  across  the  top  of 
the  page,  and  there  was  another  graphic,  detailed  story 
by  Steve.  No  mention  was  made  of  how  the  photo- 
graphs were  secured.  Hunkins  asked  that.  There  they 
were,  however,  and  they  proved  everything  I  charged. 
There  was  another  picture  of  me,  this  time  on  the 
second  page,  and  only  two  columns  wide,  but  the  edi- 
torial article  again  called  attention  to  my  great  public 
service  and  said  the  ends  justify  the  means,  "for  there 
is  now  an  opportunity  to  clean  this  gang  out  of  the 
City  Hall  which  it  has  infested  far  too  long  to  the 

209 


210  HUNKINS 

detriment  of  good  government  and  the  real  interests 
of  the  city." 

The  Globe  story  was  pathetic.  It  combined  all  the 
various  statements  of  Pendergrast  into  one  sweeping 
denial,  reprinted  all  he  said  of  me  in  a  separate  box, 
played  up  Miller's  final  denial,  and  shouted  editorially: 
"It  is  all  a  political  trick  and  lie  concocted  by  the  un- 
scrupulous opposition  to  discredit  the  city  administra- 
tion on  the  eve  of  a  campaign.  We  demand  a  full  and 
impartial  investigation,  not  only  in  justice  to  those 
cruelly  maligned  public  officials,  the  Honorable  Wil- 
liam Miller  and  the  Honorable  Thomas  Pendergrast, 
but,  also,  that  the  entire  city  administration,  which  has 
faithfully  administered  to  its  trust,  shall  be  shown  as  it 
is,  honest,  diligent  and  impeccable." 

Miller  broke  down,  in  the  mayor's  office,  at  ten 
o'clock  that  morning  and  confessed;  whereupon,  Mayor 
Spearle  ordered  his  instant  arrest  and  issued  a  long 
statement  in  which  the  following  phrases  occurred: 
"No  guilty  man  shall  escape — hew  to  the  line  let  the 
chips  fall  where  they  will — no  stigma  attaches  to  my 
office — deeply  deplore  fall  of  Treasurer  Miller — view 
with  apprehension  and  dismay  actions  of  Pendergrast 
and  others — rigid  investigation — fix  the  guilt — blot  on 
city's  fair  escutcheon — wipe  out  the  blot  by  continua- 
tion present  efficient  and  honest  administration  in  all 
other  offices — accepted  resignation  of  Miller — justice 
shall  be  done  e'en  though  the  heavens  fall — cold,  im- 
placable justice,  and  every  guilty  man  shall  receive  full 
meed  of  punishment." 

"I  got  up  early,"  Steve  told  me,  that  afternoon, 
"and  went  over  to  the  City  Hall.  I  got  the  tip  there 


PERKINS  NEEDS  $40,000  211 

was  something  doing  in  the  mayor's  office  and  jammed 
in  there  just  before  Miller  came  in.  I  know  Miller, 
and  like  him.  So  does  everybody  else.  It  was  piteous. 
They  brought  Miller  in  through  a  rear  door,  and  led 
him  in  front  of  Spearle,  who  sat  at  his  desk  trying  to 
look  the  incarnation  of  stern  justice.  Miller's  chief 
deputy  came  with  him,  and  his  father,  a  respectable 
old  man  who  runs  a  box  factory  out  in  the  Eleventh 
Ward.  Miller's  vanity  stuck  with  him.  He  had  on 
his  best  clothes,  but  he  looked  as  if  he  had  not  slept 
since  the  story  broke.  His  big,  good-natured  face  was 
white,  and  he  was  sweating  great  drops.  They  ran 
down  his  forehead  and  splashed  on  his  cheeks.  His 
loose  lips  sucked  in  and  out,  and  his  pudgy  little  chin 
trembled  like  a  baby's  after  a  spanking.  It  was  all 
over  in  three  minutes.  'It's  true,'  sobbed  Miller.  'I 
can't  stand  the  strain  any  longer.  I  gave  them  the 
money.  They  said  they'd  pay  back.  I  trusted  them. 
It's  all  square  now.  They  paid  it  back  this  morning, 
but  they  lied  before.  They  didn't  keep  their  promises, 
and  they  were  friends  of  mine.  I — I ' 

"  'Officer,'  said  Spearle,  'do  your  duty,'  and  they 
led  the  sobbing  man  away  supported  by  his  father. 
Then  Spearle  handed  out  his  statement.  I'm  damned 
if  he  hadn't  prepared  two;  one  in  case  of  innocence 
and  one  for  guilt.  Speaking  about  tight-rope  walkers 
— that  gent's  a  Blondin." 

Steve  told  me  that  Hunkins  wanted  to  see  us  again 
at  five  o'clock,  and  we  went  over,  wondering  what  he 
might  have  to  say.  "I  don't  see  what  else  he  can  have, 
do  you?"  I  asked  Steve. 

"You  never  can  tell  about  Hunkins,"  Steve  replied. 


212  HUNKINS 

"He  is  an  intelligent  and  resourceful  person,  and 
rarely  lays  all  his  cards  on  the  table  at  once." 

"What  is  his  history?"  I  asked.  "I've  asked  a 
lot  of  people,  but  nobody  seems  to  know  much  about 
him  except  that  he  is  boss,  and  has  been  since  Andrew 
Bruce  died.  He  seems  to  be  taken  for  granted,  just 
there,  like  the  South  Street  bridge." 

"He's  a  natural  development,"  Steve  told  me  as 
we  walked  towards  Martin  Street,  "a  boss  by  inheri- 
tance. Old  Andrew  Bruce  left  the  job  to  him  in  his 
political  last  will  and  testament,  and  Hunkins  fought 
off  all  the  other  heirs  expectant  who  contested  the  will, 
as  several  did,  established  his  claim  to  the  property, 
and  proved  his  rights  by  his  brains  and  works. 

"His  father,  C.  J.  Hunkins,  kept  a  book  store  in 
the  old  days.  He  was  an  Englishman,  born  there, 
and  a  classicist,  one  of  those  chaps  who  had  their  Latin 
whacked  into  them  at  an  early  age  and  never  forgot  it. 
The  book-store  was  the  loafing  place  for  men  who  had 
tastes  like  Hunkins,  and  one  of  these  was  Brucd 
Bruce  was  a  boss,  none  harder-headed  nor  harder 
fisted,  but  he,  also,  was  a  worshiper  of  Robert  Burns. 
He  wanted  to  fight  any  person  who  intimated  that 
Burns  is  not  the  greatest  poet  the  world  ever  has  pro- 
duced, or  ever  will  produce.  Hunkins  held  different 
views.  He  maintained  that  the  only  great  poets  are 
the  classical  poets,  Virgil,  Homer,  and  especially 
Horace,  which  is  where  our  Hunkins  got  his  Horatian 
slant.  These  two  old  cronies  wrangled  over  this  sub- 
ject for  twenty  years,  and  all  the  time  young  Hunkins 
was  growing  up,  with  free  range  of  the  book  store, 
a  bookish  trend  and  a  flair  for  languages. 


PERKINS  NEEDS  $40,000  213 

"Old  Bruce  got  to  know  and  like  the  boy,  who  was 
being  educated  on  a  system  of  his  father's.  He  had 
to  study  Latin  when  he  was  a  child,  taught  by  the 
old  man  himself,  and  by  the  time  he  was  twenty  he  was 
a  good  classical  scholar,  and  had  a  High-school  edu- 
cation, also.  Bruce  began  to  give  the  lad  little  jobs 
in  politics,  and,  presently,  young  Billy,  who  had  a 
taste  for  politics,  developed  into  right-hand  executive 
for  the  old  chap.  Then,  one  day,  Bruce  died,  and 
Hunkins  stepped  in  and  took  hold.  His  father  left 
enough  property,  in  houses  and  lots,  to  give  him  about 
four  thousand  dollars  a  year  income,  which  is  enough 
for  him  as  he  isn't  married,  and  he  sits  there  in  Martin 
Street  and  gets  joy  out  of  life  by  playing  politics,  read- 
ing books,  and  studying  languages.  He  has  French 
and  Italian  and  German,  but  I  didn't  know  until  the 
other  day  when  you  told  me,  that  he's  taken  up  Spanish 
recently. 

"Hunkins  plays  the  game  on  the  theory  that  it  is 
results  that  count,  and  the  way  to  get  results  is  to 
get  them.  He's  cold  as  a  wedge  in  politics,  and  there's 
nothing  high-brow  or  idealistic  about  him.  He  plays 
with  the  cards  dealt  to  him,  and  as  you  know  the 
News  doesn't  stand  for  all  he  does,  by  a  long  shot. 
However,  we  are  good  friends,  and  he  talks  freely 
to  me  about  many  of  his  plans,  knowing  that  I'll  slam 
him  if  I  think  he  needs  slamming,  and  never  trying 
to  tie  me  up  by  making  confidential  communications 
that  I  can't  use.  We're  on  a  square-toed  basis,  as  wit- 
ness his  telling  me,  and  you,  too,  how  he  got  those 
I.  O.  U.'s  to  photograph.  He's  a  frank  citizen  if  he 
trusts  you.  Here  we  are." 


2i4  HUNKINS 

Hunkins  greeted  us  with  great  good  nature,  much 
pleased  and  showing  it.  "We've  got  them,"  he  said, 
"got  them  where  the  hair  is  short.  Seems  a  shame 
to  pile  it  on,  but  I  think  we  might  take  one  more  shot 
at  them,  especially  at  this  trimmer,  Spearle." 

He  had  a  clipping  of  Mayor  Spearle's  statement, 
and  walked  about  the  room  declaiming  portions  of  it, 
especially  the  line  about:  "No  stigma  attaches  to  my 
office." 

"Is  Spearle  in  it?"  Steve  asked,  excitedly. 

"No;  I'm  sorry  to  say,  he  isn't,  but  we  can  tie  it  up 
to  his  office." 

"How?" 

"Why,  there  are  eight  men  in  that  mining  syndicate 
that  borrowed  the  money  from  Miller.  The  eighth 
man  doesn't  appear  openly.  Pendergrast  carried  him, 
and  covered  his  part  of  it  in  the  part  he  assumed  per- 
sonally." 

"Who  is  it?" 

"Wallace,  the  Mayor's  executive  clerk.  There  was 
a  note  in  Miller's  private  ledger  to  that  effect.  Metic- 
ulous person,  Miller,  wrote  everything  down.  I 
haven't  any  photograph  of  that,  but  I  saw  it,  and  you 
may  use  it  in  the  morning  if  you  like,  Steve.  No 
doubt  Miller  will  confirm  it,  now  that  he  has  peached." 

"I'll  go  and  see,"  said  Steve,  hurrying  out. 

"Well,"  said  Hunkins,  "this  has  been  a  good  job, 
well  done,  and  I'm  grateful  to  you  for  helping  me 
ca'rry  it  out.  I  shall  not  forget.  However,  as  Horace 
says,  we  must  in  good  fortune  preserve  our  minds  from 
an  insolent  joy,  and  the  thing  to  do  now  is  intelligently 


PERKINS  NEEDS  $40,000  215 

and  skillfully  to  capitalize  it  and  make  it  of  use  to 
us  in  the  campaign  for  mayor  that  is  coming." 

We  discussed  various  city  affairs  and  politics  for 
half  an  hour  or  so  and  then  Steve  called  up. 

"I  got  to  Miller  in  the  city  attorney's  office,"  he 
said,  "and  he  confirmed  it.  He's  in  a  frightful  funk, 
and  is  spilling  all  he  knows.  They  tried  to  stop  him 
on  this,  but  he  let  it  go,  and  I'm  printing  it  in  the 
morning." 

"Fine!"  said  Hunkins.  "Just  a  little  stigma  for 
Mayor  Spearle — just  enough  to  make  it  more  difficult 
for  him  in  the  primaries." 

Steve's  publication  about  Wallace  caused  Mayor 
Spearle  to  turn  the  most  amazing  series  of  flip-flops 
witnessed  up  to  that  time  in  the  office  of  the  city's 
chief  executive.  He  suspended  Wallace,  issued  several 
statements  protesting  his  entire  lack  of  knowledge  of 
the  matter,  personally  instructed  the  city  attorney  to 
have  no  mercy  on  Miller  but  hale  him  before  the 
Grand  Jury  at  the  earliest  moment,  set  forth  some 
burning  remarks  about  Pendergrast,  and  recalled  them 
before  the  reporters  got  out  of  the  room,  and  wound 
up  the  day  by  holding  a  conference  of  his  friends, 
and  formally  declaring  himself  at  the  head  of  the  party. 
He  discharged  Pendergrast  without  a  character. 

Pendergrast  tried  to  bluff  it  out  for  a  day  or  two, 
but  the  going  was  too  heavy  for  him.  Even  the 
Globe  attacked  him  and  his  partners  in  the  borrow- 
ing episode.  Then  he  put  his  affairs  in  the  hands 
of  our  best  criminal  lawyer,  and  left  town  one  night 
without  giving  an  address.  There  was  a  long,  legal 
wrangle  over  the  exact  shade  of  culpability  of  the 


2i  6  HUNKINS 

men  who  borrowed  the  money,  which  they  repaid,  of 
course,  after  the  exposure.  This  dragged  on  for 
weeks,  and,  finally  petered  out.  Nothing  was  done. 
Meantime,  Miller  was  indicted,  and  released  on  bail. 
Everybody  was  sorry  for  him,  and  he  walked  the 
streets  searching  for  sympathy.  Eventually,  he  was 
brought  to  trial,  made  a  modified  plea  of  guilty,  and 
was  sentenced  to  two  years  in  state's  prison.  They 
gave  him  a  great  send-off  when  he  left  to  serve  his 
sentence.  Many  of  the  sob  sisters,  and  a  lot  of  his 
political  friends  were  at  the  station  when  the  deputy 
sheriff  brought  him  down.  It  looked  as  if  he  was 
starting  for  a  promotion  instead  of  a  prison.  He  is 
there  yet,  with  a  soft  job  in  the  warden's  office. 

Hunkins  kept  the  matter  before  the  public  skillfully, 
bearing  down,  always,  on  the  responsibility  of  Mayor 
Spearle,  and  quoting  often  Spearle's  high-flown  state- 
ment. Indeed,  he  managed  it  so  well  that  the  political 
nickname  for  Spearle  came  to  be  "No-stigma"  Spearle, 
which  made  that  aspiring  statesman  most  unhappy. 

One  morning,  at  breakfast,  about  ten  days  after 
the  first  happenings,  Dad  said  to  me :  "Remember  that 
conversation  we  had  with  Perkins  at  the  club?" 

"Yes,  sir.    Why?" 

"Oh,  that  casual  remark  of  mine  got  such  a  rise 
out  of  that  shifty  gentleman  that  I  made  up  my  mind 
there  was  something  in  it.  Yesterday  I  happened  to 
drop  into  a  directors'  meeting  at  the  Consolidated  Na- 
tional Bank,  where  I  am  a  member,  you  know.  I  was 
right,  by  ginger  I" 

"Right?    How?" 

"Why,  on  the  day  after  you  made  those  charges 


PERKINS  NEEDS  $40,000  217 

Perkins  borrowed  $40,000  at  that  bank,  and,  by  grub- 
bing around  a  little,  I  find  that  he  was  most  desperately 
anxious  to  get  it,  and  put  up  a  big  wad  of  gilt-edged 
stuff  as  collateral  for  it.  Circumstantial  evidence,  per- 
haps, but  satisfactory  to  me." 

"Do  you  mean  Perkins  was  in  that  combination?" 

"Perhaps  not  in  it,  but  of  it.  I  mean  that  Perkins 
is  so  beholden  to  Pendergrast,  in  some  way  or  other, 
that  he  had  to  get  that  money  for  Pendergrast  when 
this  crisis  came.  Store  that  away  in  your  head.  It 
may  be  worth  while  to  pay  some  attention  to  Brother 
Perkins  at  the  proper  time." 

"But  Perkins  is  one  of  our  leading  business  men," 
I  protested. 

"All  the  more  reason  to  remember  what  I'm  telling 
you,"  Dad  replied,  and  changed  the  subject. 


CHAPTER  XX 

A  DISCOURSE  ON  WOMEN 

ONE  of  our  meetings  at  the  Tucker  Building 
headquarters  became  a  mutual  admiration 
conclave.  We  cheered  and  congratulated 
and  made  rosy  predictions  over  the  reports  of 
Miss  Crawford,  who  told  us  that  the  checked  and  cor- 
rected rolls,  with  all  duplications  eliminated,  showed 
that  a  few  more  than  four  thousand  men  have  signed 
the  pledges,  and  two  thousand  women.  Her  investiga- 
tions indicate  that  about  a  third  of  these  are  men  re- 
turned from  France,  and  the  remainder  men  released 
from  training  camps.  She  said  another  contingent  of 
overseas  men  is  due  soon,  and  that  practically  all  the 
men  from  the  camps  will  be  home  within  a  month.  She 
reported  that  our  three  centers,  the  original  and  cen- 
tral one  in  the  Sixth  Ward,  and  the  newly-established 
ones  in  the  eastern  and  the  western  sections  of  the  city, 
are  popular. 

"I  hate  to  be  a  kill-joy,"  said  Dowd  after  this 
had  gone  on  for  a  time,  "but  if  you  folks  will  stop  back- 
patting  long  enough  to  assimilate  a  few  practical 
thoughts  on  this  subject  it  may  help  some." 

"It  seems  to  me  that  what  we  have  heard  is  rather 
practical,"  said  Colonel  Anderson.  "What  makes  you 
a  pessimist?" 

218 


A  DISCOURSE  ON  WOMEN  219 

"Listening  to  you  optimists  for  one  thing,"  Dowd 
replied,  "and  some  information  I  have  at  hand,  for 
another." 

"Shall  we  hear  the  calamity  howler?"  I  asked  the 
others. 

"Go  ahead,  Dowd,"  said  the  Colonel.  "Let's 
have  it." 

"I  gather  from  what  you  have  all  been  saying  that 
you  think  we  not  only  originated  this  idea,  but  that 
we  are  the  sole  trustees  and  executors  of  it.  Let 
me  set  you  right  on  that  point.  I  had  a  letter  from 
France  the  other  day  giving  me  the  details  of  that 
conference  of  American  soldiers  in  Paris  the  news- 
paper despatches  mentioned  where  preliminary  details 
were  worked  out  for  a  national  organization  and 
preparations  made  for  a  convention  in  this  country, 
later  in  the  year,  for  the  purpose  of  effecting  a  per- 
manent organization  of  a  national  association  of  vet- 
erans of  this  war.  Also,  I  have  letters  and  literature 
showing  that  there  already  is  in  this  country  a  lively 
organization  with  the  same  end  in  view;  and  I  am 
informed  that  in  various  parts  of  the  country  other 
organizations  are  in  process  of  formation.  Further- 
more, here  in  this  city  there  is  an  opposition,  that  is 
backed  by  some  politicians  who  seek  to  counteract  what 
we  are  doing,  and  is  having  some  success.  Wherefore, 
I  would  advise  two  things." 

"What  two  things?"  asked  Miss  Harrow. 

"A  reasonable  portion  of  humility,  and  a  consider- 
able amount  of  hustle,  both  adjurations  beginning  with 
the  well  known  letter  H,  which,  by  the  way,  designates 
a  third  and  active  factor  for  consideration — Hunkins/' 


220  HUNKINS 

"Hunkins?"  chorused  several  of  us.     "Is  he  in  it?" 

"He  is.  He  knows  the  potential  political  value  of 
these  soldiers  as  well  as  we  do — probably  better,  and 
he  has  traps  and  bird  lime  and  nets  out  in  every 
direction." 

This  information  changed  the  aspect  of  the  meeting 
from  mutual  admiration  to  mutual  anxiety.  After  we 
had  discussed  these  communications  indecisively  for 
a  time,  Sergeant  Ralston  turned  to  Dowd  and  asked: 
"What's  the  answer?" 

"Work,"  said  Dowd.  "We  must  get  the  bulk  of 
these  men  and  women  into  our  organization  or  our 
plans  all  fail.  In  the  first  place,  if  when  the  time 
comes  for  welding  all  these  various  bodies  into  one 
great,  national  body,  we  are  divided  into  two,  or  sev- 
eral camps  here,  we  lose  our  influence.  We  must  act 
in  unison  and  intelligently  when  it  comes  to  the  na- 
tional operations.  Second,  if  we  play  our  cards  skill- 
fully we  may  be  able  to  give  our  members  a  practical 
demonstration  of  what  may  be  accomplished  by  united 
action  before  this  national  organization  matter  comes 
to  a  head." 

"In  what  way?"  came  at  Dowd  from  various 
persons. 

"In  a  very  practical  way,"  Dowd  replied.  "We  hold 
a  city  election  this  fall  in  which  we  shall  choose  a 
Mayor.  That  election  will  be  preceded  by  a  primary 
wherein  the  candidates  will  be  selected  to  contest  the 
election  in  November.  If  we  make  it  our  business  to 
find  out  who  the  candidates  are  likely  to  be,  we,  pos- 
sibly, and  in  great  measure,  may  be  able  to  throw  our 
strength  to  the  better  man;  or,  if  neither  of  the  can- 


A  DISCOURSE  ON  WOMEN  221 

didates  proposed  by  the  organizations,  and  none  that 
may  contest  independently,  is  acceptable  to  us,  it  will 
be  a  good  plan,  just  for  an  experiment  and  to  excite  in- 
terest and  enthusiasm,  to  run  a  candidate  of  our  own. 
[We  may  not  win,  but  it  will  be  good  experience,  just 
the  same." 

"Have  you  heard  anything  about  candidates?"  I 
asked. 

"Not  yet.  I  take  it  for  granted  that  Spearle  will 
ask  for  re-election,  but  I  have  no  news  of  the  Hun- 
kins  choice.  It  is  my  opinion  that  we  cannot  support 
Spearle,  in  any  circumstances.  Hence,  that  leaves  us 
the  choice,  in  the  primaries,  of  the  Hunkins  man,  if 
he  is  a  good  man,  or  our  own  man.  Unless  Hunkins 
sets  up  a  most  acceptable  candidate  I  am  in  favor  of 
putting  a  candidate  of  our  own — a  soldiers'  candidate 
— into  the  primary." 

"Wouldn't  that  make  it  easier  for  Spearle?" 

"No,  but  more  difficult  for  Hunkins.  The  charter 
specifies  that  the  persons  who  receive  the  largest  and 
the  next  largest  number  of  votes  for  Mayor  in  the 
primary  and  are  certified  thus  by  the  Board  of  Elec- 
tions, shall  be  the  candidates  to  be  voted  for  at  the 
election." 

"Then  if  our  man  receives  the  second  largest  num- 
ber, and  Spearle  the  largest  number,  say,  the  contest 
will  be  between  our  man  and  Spearle?" 

"Exactly,  and  if  our  man  runs  third,  the  Hunkins 
man  and  Spearle  will  fight  it  out.  The  place  for  our 
big  contest  is  in  the  primary,  which  will  be  held  four 
weeks  before  the  date  of  the  election.  We  must  pre- 
pare for  that." 


222  HUNKINS 

A  general  discussion  followed  Dowd's  talk  that 
ranged  from  denunciations  of  the  boss  system  to  con- 
siderations of  the  weather.  Suggestions  were  made 
that  were  so  cautious  and  conservative  we  laughed 
over  them,  and  proposals  that  were  so  radical  they 
astonished.  Some  advised  waiting  and  watching,  and 
the  use  of  our  moral  influence,  and  others  the  open 
defiance  of  Hunkins  and  Spearle,  and  an  immediate 
announcement  of  a  soldiers'  ticket. 

After  this  had  gone  on  for  a  time  Miss  Harrow's 
impatience  culminated  in  a  contemptuous  "Pish!" 

"What's  the  use  of  all  this  talk?"  she  asked.  "Why 
should  we  play  second  fiddle  to  Hunkins  or  any  other 
man?  I  think  we  should  have  a  candidate.  The  way 
to  organize  and  hold  these  people  is  to  give  them 
something  more  tangible  than  talk  and  vague  pros- 
pects to  organize  for.  That  is  my  opinion." 

"It  is  my  opinion,  too,"  said  Dowd,  "but  it  is  too 
early  to  talk  of  candidates  as  yet.  That  will  expose 
our  plans  to  the  men  who  must  not  be  forewarned." 

"Expose  them,  then!  I  tell  you  we  must  give  a 
greater  incentive  to  these  men  and  women  than  a  lec- 
ture, a  doughnut,  and  a  phonograph  concert  to  hold 
them  in  line." 

"Certainly,  Miss  Harrow,"  assented  Dowd,  "but  we 
find  lectures,  doughnuts  and  phonograph  concerts  very 
helpful  at  the  start." 

"Pshaw!"  she  sniffed,  "if  I  were  a  man  I'd  run 
myself." 

"Why  not  run  as  a  woman?"  asked  Miss  Crawford, 
with  mischief  in  her  eyes. 

"Maybe  I  shall,"  retorted  Miss  Harrow.     "Any- 


A  DISCOURSE  ON  WOMEN  223 

how,  I'm  better  fitted  for  it  than  a  good  many  men 
I  know." 

Everybody  assured  the  militant  Miss  Harrow  that 
that  is  undeniably  the  case,  and  that  mollified  her 
somewhat,  but  after  the  meeting  Dowd  told  Miss 
Crawford  and  myself:  "That  lady  demands  action, 
and  she'll  be  getting  it,  too,  in  ways  we  do  not  like 
if  we  do  not  watch  out." 

"Oh,  she  is  all  right,"  said  Miss  Crawford.  "She 
feels  deeply  on  the  woman  question,  and  is  militant 
and  uncompromising.  She  believes  that  any  end  justi- 
fies the  means  for  universal  suffrage." 

I  wondered,  many  times,  just  what  Miss  Craw- 
ford's ideas  on  that  question  are.  The  "prison  special" 
of  the  militants  stopped  off  for  a  meeting  with  us, 
and  I  went  to  the  meeting,  and  saw  Miss  Crawford 
there.  So  I  asked  her:  "How  do  you  feel  about  it?" 

"Do  you  really  want  to  know?" 

"I  do,  indeed." 

"Well,  you  must  submit  to  a  little  lecture,  then,  for 
I  can't  tell  you  in  a  sentence." 

"Go  ahead,"  urged  both  Dowd  and  myself.  "We'll 
be  glad  to  get  your  ideas." 

"The  important  phase  of  it  all,"  she  said,  "is  how 
the  average  woman  feels  about  it,  and  I  have  devoted 
myself  to  finding  that  out.  I  think  I  can  analyze  her 
feelings  and  thoughts,  for  many  of  them  feel  rather 
than  think,  with  fair  accuracy.  In  the  first  place,  the 
women  of  this  country,  separate,  broadly,  into  three 
groups.  One  group  believes  in  militancy.  Another 
group  believes  women  should  not  ask  for  the  vote. 
The  third  group  is  in  a  middle  frame  of  mind  and 


224  HUNKINS 

feeling.  That  is  the  more  important  group,  as  it  is 
far  ther  larger — at  least  eighty  per  cent,  of  all  our 
women  comprise  it. 

"What  any  cause,  commodity,  or  conclusion  must 
have  to  attain  power  is  advertisement — publicity.  In 
some  cases,  as,  for  example,  with  the  Presidential  office, 
power  brings  publicity,  but  in  the  majority  of  cases 
publicity  brings  power.  Hence,  you  will  find  insistent 
in  the  minds  of  the  great  majority  of  women  in  this 
country  the  question  whether  the  cause  of  universal 
suffrage  would  be  so  far  along  as  it  is  now — I  mean 
in  the  minds  of  the  women  of  the  third  and  largest 
group — if  the  militant  tactics  of  some  of  the  women 
had  not  been  followed;  or  whether  it  would  have  ar- 
rived anyhow,  of  its  own  merits.  A  great  many  women 
are  puzzled  to  know  how  suffrage  would  have  made 
any  advance  if  the  women  had  not  been  as  aggressive 
as  they  have  been.  They  haven't  found  an  answer 
for  that,  although,  instinctively,  they  revolt  at  mob 
arrests  and  hunger  strikes  and  such  demonstrations. 

"Most  women  believe  In  suffrage  down  deep  in 
their  hearts,  whether  they  are  active  in  the  cause  or 
not,  because  they  believe  in  their  own  intelligence  no, 
matter  how  man  centuries  of  derision  of  that  intelli- 
gence they  have  endured  from  the  men.  It  is  a  deep- 
Seated,  human  emotion,  this  desire  for  equal  rights 
with  the  men,  and  it  ramifies  in  many  ways  from,  and 
transcends  in  many  ways  the  suffrage  manifestation. 
This  is  especially  true  now  that  this  world  war  has; 
been  fought  and  won  by  us.  Women  have  come  out 
of  it  with  a  feeling  that  they  helped  to  fight  it,  in 
Work,  and  to  pay  for  it  in  taxes  and  privations,  to 


A  DISCOURSE  ON  WOMEN  225 

say  nothing  of  that  other  and  sentimental  side  of  help- 
ing to  furnish  the  fighters.  Women  have  come  to  a 
place,  now,  where  they  think  it  is  not  fair  not  to  let 
them  have  a  world  partnership,  not  to  allow  them  to 
have  a  say  in  governmental  affairs  if  they  want  it. 

"Most  women  in  this  country,  the  great  bulk  of  them, 
are  not  turning  a  hand  to  get  these  equal  rights,  but 
they  want  them  in  their  hearts ;  and  do  not  agree  with 
the  woman' s-place-in-the-home  arguments  of  many  of 
the  men,  and  of  the  anti-suffragists.  They  admit  that 
the  woman's  place  is  in  the  home,  of  course,  but  their 
protest,  either  vocal  or  not,  is  that  the  home  must 
not  be  made  a  prison,  and  if  they  desire  to  come  out 
of  it  they  shall  have  an  opportunity.  A  good  many 
have  said  to  me  that  while  their  places  may  be  in  the 
home  that  does  not  prevent  them  from  being  indepen- 
dently taxed  if  they  have  incomes,  nor  to  be  subject 
to  all  other  regulations  and  imposts;  the  oldest  and 
truest  argument  for  equal  suffrage,  now  brought  home 
to  many  women  for  the  first  time  by  the  money  side 
of  the  war  in  all  its  various  personal  manifestations, 
demands,  and  obligations. 

"The  inner  and  true  psychology  of  it  all  is  that 
this  great  desire  for  equality  has  been  impressing  itself 
on  women  for  a  long  space  of  time,  making  some  mili- 
tant, and  others  merely  thoughtful,  but  all  anxious  to 
assume  an  equal  share  of  obligations  if  given  an 
equal  responsibility.  They  think,  whether  they  say  it 
or  not,  that  the  world  scale  does  not  hang  evenly  and 
justly,  and  that  it  will  not  until  what  seems  now  assured 
entirely  comes  to  pass. 


226  HUNKINS 

"Those  of  us  who  have  gone  into  the  matter  per- 
haps more  fully  than  the  average  woman  realize  that 
most  of  this  is  subjective  sensation  rather  than  objective 
reason,  among  the  larger  third  group  of  average 
women,  I  mean;  and  that  the  task  of  those  who  do 
realize  this  is  to  teach  the  women  of  this  country  to 
discard  consideration  of  both  the  individual  phase, 
and  the  non-essential  of  method  of  attainment  and 
utilize  the  benefits  of  the  new  era.  They  must  be 
taught  that.  Most  of  them  know,  only  vaguely,  and 
many  not  at  all,  what  they  can  do,  but  they  are  quick 
to  learn,  and  once  they  have  learned,  their  enormous 
forces  may  be  intelligently  and  effectively  directed  and 
applied  and  will  be,  I  may  say,  speaking  for  the  sex 
in  general.  I  hope  you  believe  in  suffrage,"  she  con- 
cluded, turning  to  me. 

"Why,  yes,  I  do,"  I  replied,  "although  I  haven't 
thought  of  it  much." 

"Well,  you  would  better  begin  thinking  of  it  a  good 
deal,  if  you  intend  to  remain  in  politics,  for  the  women 
will  have  a  far  greater  hand  in  running  things  in  this 
country,  from  now  on,  than  they  now  have,  and  they 
are  quite  important  in  various  sections  already." 

"Do  they  take  readily  to  politics?" 

"Not  so  readily  as  you  would  think,  when  you 
consider  that  the  woman  mind  is  intrinsically  political 
in  its  workings,  but  that  is  because  they  are  foreign 
to  party  politics.  Their  politics  is  of  domestic  nature. 
Also  as  they  grasp  the  essential  and  important  and 
indisputable  fact  that  the  politics  and  diplomacy  it  takes 
to  manage  and  direct  one  man  may  be  extended,  in  a 
portion  of  its  feminine  demonstrations,  to  the  manage- 


A  DISCOURSE  ON  WOMEN  227 

ment  and  direction  of  many  men  it  will  be  all  up 
with  you  males.  The  women  will  control  everything. 
Potentially,  they  are  all  politicians." 

"Rather  discouraging  prospect;  don't  you  think  so, 
Dowd?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Dowd,  "it  all  depends  on 
the  women." 

"Really,"  added  Miss  Crawford,  "I  do  not  think  it 
will  be  so  terrifying,  for  it  is  my  opinion  that  you  will 
find  that  the  women  will  be  juster  to  the  men  than 
the  men  have  been  to  the  women." 

"How  do  you  find  these  soldier  women?"  asked 
Dowd. 

"Just  women,  except  that  the  war,  and  the  particK 
pation  of  their  men  in  it,  have  intensified  their  ma- 
ternal aspects  in  a  way,  and  have  accentuated  their 
desires  to  get  all  that  may  be  obtained  for  their  men. 
In  reality,  I  think  the  great  danger  to  suffrage,  from 
a  woman's  viewpoint,  is  that  the  women  will  utilize 
their  power  more  for  their  sons  and  their  other  males 
than  for  themselves.  For  example,  these  soldier 
women  are  keen  that  this  organization  of  ours,  to 
which  they  are  coming  rapidly,  will  get  benefits  for 
the  boys,  not  for  themselves  except  as  they  inciden- 
tally will  profit;  and  they  desire  to  utilize  their  power 
to  that  end.  In  that  way,  it  is  likely,  so  far  as  the 
average  woman  is  concerned,  until  the  average  woman's 
education  is  complete,  you  men  will  be  able  to  main- 
tain most  of  the  power,  not  because  you  get  it  your- 
selves, but  because  the  women  will  give  it  to  you  them- 
selves." 

"In  other  words,"  said  Dowd,  "universal  suffrage 


228  HUNKINS 

and  equal  rights  and  all  the  rest  of  it  will  be  compli- 
cated with  the  eternal  feminine." 

"Exactly,"   Miss   Crawford  replied,   "and  no  true 
woman  would  have  it  any  other  way." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

HUNKINS  PICKS  PERKINS 

DOWD  prodded  me  into  great  activity  among 
the  returned  soldiers,  just  as  he  prodded  all 
others  of  our  central  committee.     We  held 
meetings  nearly  every  night,  and  I  gradually 
developed  into  a  confident  speaker,  whether  good  or 
bad. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  Tommie,  have  a  heart,"  I 
said  one  day,  after  I  found  he  and  Miss  Crawford 
had  scheduled  me  for  three  speeches  at  rallies  in  one 
night.  "Remember  I  am  an  alderman  and  have  work 
to  do  for  my  constituents." 

"I'm  not  likely  to  forget  it,"  Dowd  replied,  "with 
the  News  editorializing  about  you  a  couple  of  times 
a  week  as  the  fearless  young  man  who  tied  the  can  to 
Pendergrast.  However,  this  is  the  time  to  get  our 
affairs  in  order,  and  as  you  volunteered  for  work  I 
am  seeiftg  to  it  that  you  get  work,  and  plenty  of  it. 
Three  meetings  to-night  for  you,  and  no  less.  I'm 
taking  four." 

I  think  Dowd  worked  eighteen  hours  a  day.  He 
abandoned  his  law  business,  practically,  and  threw 
himself  into  the  labor  of  organizing  those  soldiers. 
Miss  Crawford  worked  as  hard  as  he  did,  and  results 
were  apparent. 

229 


230  HUNKINS 

"We're  almost  ready  for  a  big  mass  convention," 
Dowd  told  me  one  day,  "and  when  we  get  that  over 
we'll  be  in  fine  shape  to  take  this  game  Hunkins  is 
framing  apart  to  see  what  makes  it  tick." 

"What  is  he  framing?"  I  asked.  "I  haven't  seen 
him  for  some  time;  not  since  the  Miller  exposure, 
although  I  have  talked  to  him  a  few  times  on  the 
telephone." 

"I  don't  know  yet.  I  get  all  sorts  of  reports.  One 
thing  is  certain  and  that  is  that  he  is  busy  with  the 
soldiers,  too.  He  has  a  few  fellows  who  served  in 
the  Army  on  his  staff,  and  while  he  is  not  working 
openly,  as  we  are,  he  is  scattering  a  good  deal  of  Hun- 
kins organization  propaganda  about,  just  the  same." 
Dowd  stopped  and  drummed  on  the  table  for  a  minute. 

"Say,  Captain,"  he  said,  "why  don't  you  take  a  try 
at  it?" 

"At  what?" 

"At  having  a  talk  with  Hunkins  to  see  if  you  can 
get  a  line  on  what  is  in  his  mind.  You  are  the  fair- 
haired  boy  with  him  now,  and  he  might  unbelt." 

"He  won't  tell  me  anything." 

"Maybe  he  will.     It's  worth  trying." 

"I  don't  want  to  abuse  his  confidence." 

Dowd  looked  at  me  curiously.  "Have  you  got  it?" 
he  asked. 

"Certainly  not,  but  he  might  tell  me  that  way." 

"Look  here,  Talbot,"  said  Dowd,  "I'm  not  asking 
you  to  be  either  a  spy  or  informer.  Dismiss  that  from 
your  mind,  and  don't  be  such  a  shrinking  violet.  If 
he  tells  you  anything  in  confidence  I'm  the  last  man  in 
the  world  to  ask  you  to  break  that  confidence,  but  if 


HUNKINS  PICKS  PERKINS  231 

he  gives  you  the  information  in  a  straight,  man-to- 
man talk  that's  legitimate  enough  politics.  You  have 
just  done  Hunkins,  and  a  good  many  others,  a  great 
service.  Why  not  capitalize  it  a  little,  inasmuch  as 
the  project  we  are  all  interested  in  may  be  benefited?" 

I  considered  that  view  of  it,  and  saw  the  merit  of 
Dowd's  contention.  "I'll  talk  to  him  when  I  get  a 
chance,"  I  consented. 

"Do  it  now,  as  the  postal  card  motto  exhorts," 
urged  Dowd.  "There's  the  telephone." 

I  called  Hunkins.  He  was  in,  and  said  he'd  be  glad 
to  see  me  if  I  came  right  over. 

"Heard  anything  about  Pendergrast?"  I  asked  him, 
when  we  were  seated  in  the  little  room  in  the  house 
in  Martin  Street. 

"Yes;  he's  down  at  that  mine  in  Arizona,  cursing 
everybody,  but  especially  you  and  me,  and  drinking 
more  bad  liquor  than  is  good  for  him,  even  though 
the  mine  is  in  a  dry  territory.  Trust  Pendergrast  to 
establish  relations  with  the  boot-leggers.  He's  expert 
in  that  sort  of  thing." 

"Is  he  coming  back?" 

"Not  yet.  He  will  eventually,  no  doubt,  and  may 
even  try  to  run  in  under  cover  soon,  but  it  will  be  some 
time  before  he  resumes  his  seat  in  the  board  of  alder- 
men." 

"Will  Spearle  stand  for  re-election?" 

"Certainly.  He's  fixing  for  it  now.  He  has  already 
read  Pendergrast  out  as  leader,  and  has  assumed  the 
place  himself.  He'll  be  the  only  candidate  from  that 
side  in  the  primary." 

Palpably,  this  gave  me  my  chance.     I  made  the 


232  HUNKINS 

inquiry  as  casual  and  non-important  as  I  could,  and 
asked:  "Who'll  run  for  us?" 

Hunkins  smiled  as  he  looked  at  me.  "The  choice 
of  the  party,  of  course,"  he  replied. 

"The  choice  of  yourself,  you  mean,"  I  said,  boldly. 

"You  flatter  me,"  he  replied,  smiling  again.  "Who 
am  I  to  dictate  to  a  great,  imperial,  I  may  say,  politi- 
cal organization  in  the  matter  of  policies,  or  men?  I 
am  merely  the  servant  to  carry  out  the  expressed 
wishes  of  these  electors.  As  soon  as  the  command 
conies  I  shall  obey.  Until  then  I  stand  and  wait." 

"Pshaw,"  I  said,  "you'll  pick  the  man,  if  you  haven't 
already  picked  him." 

"I  protest.  You  ascribe  to  me  virtue  that  I  have 
not;  you  attribute  to  me  a  potency  that  I  do  not  pos- 
sess. To  revert  to  my  mentor,  Horace,  'Mentis  gratis- 
simus  error' — it  is  a  most  pleasing  error  of  the  mind — 
your  mind.  I  am  exceedingly  complimented  that  you 
have  this  high  opinion  of  me,  but  you  must  revise  it. 
What  you  assert  is  quite  beyond  even  my  ambitions, 
to  say  nothing  of  my  capabilities." 

It  was  plain  enough  that  Hunkins  was  joshing  me 
gently,  and  that  I  could  get  no  information  with  those 
tactics.  So  I  said,  insinuatingly,  "Well,  I  hope  the 
candidate  will  be  a  strong  man  in  every  way." 

"How  can  he  be  otherwise  ?"  asked  Hunkins,  "when 
our  great  and  moral  party  will  choose  him  for  a 
^standard  bearer?" 

"Some  of  them  haven't  been,"  I  said. 

"Ah,  well,  sometimes  circumstance  overpowers  in- 
tent. Let  us  hope  and  pray." 


HUNKINS  PICKS  PERKINS  233 

The  next  time  I  saw  Dowd  he  asked  me :  "Have  any 
luck  with  Hunkins?" 

"Not  any.  He  joshed  me,  quoted  Horace  at  me, 
and  I  didn't  get  even  an  initial,  to  say  nothing  of  a 
name." 

"That's  the  way  he  works,"  said  Dowd,  "but  I'll 
bet  he  has  had  that  candidate  selected  for  a  month." 

"Can  he  do  that?"  I  asked. 

"Do  what?" 

"Select  a  candidate  without  consulting  the  other  or- 
ganization leaders?" 

"He  can,  and  he  will.  Hunkins  isn't  an  easy  boss, 
like  Platt  of  New  York  used  to  be.  He's  a  hard 
boss.  He  rules  those  men  by  sheer  force  of  will  and 
intelligence.  Not  many  of  them  like  him,  but  they  are 
all  afraid  of  him.  One  of  these  days  he  will  be  de- 
posed, and  probably  he  knows  it;  but  so  long  as  he 
is  boss  he  is  just  that — boss.  They  may  not  like  his 
man,  but  unless  they  can  hand  him  a  candidate  who  is 
better  he'll  put  his  man  over,  and  he  never  makes  a 
selection  without  having  overpowering  reasons  for  that 
selection.  He  plays  fair,  doesn't  take  anything,  nor 
want  anything  for  himself,  and  he  has  them  all  eating 
out  of  his  hand." 

"You  say  they  are  afraid  of  him,"  I  said.  "He 
always  seems  mild  mannered  to  me." 

"Stir  him  up  once  and  you'll  see,"  replied  Dowd, 
and  the  talk  turned  on  other  things.  We  had  reached 
the  point  in  our  work  demanding  a  big  public  demon- 
stration. The  newspapers  were  printing  paragraphs 
about  our  activities,  and  we  decided  we  must  get  a  few 
columns,  not  only  for  the  encouragement  of  the  men 


234  HUNKINS 

and  to  add  to  their  enthusiasm,  but  to  give  adequate 
warning  to  those  working  at  cross  purposes  to  us  that 
we  control. 

Dowd  cautioned  us  not  to  say  much  about  the  po- 
litical end  of  the  plan  in  our  speeches,  for  he  saw 
danger  in  that,  and  our  main  exhortation  was  along 
the  lines  of  mutual  benefit  to  all,  with  politics  inci- 
dentally mentioned  as  one  way  mutual  benefits  may  be 
attained.  We  had  almost  completed  our  arangements 
for  our  demonstration  when  the  scene  for  another  sort 
of  a  performance  was  set  for  us  by  Hunkins  himself. 

One  afternoon,  six  weeks  before  the  date  for  the 
primaries,  Steve  Pox  shouted  to  me  over  the  telephone : 
"Come  down  to  Dowd's  office — quick  1" 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"Never  mind.     Come  down  here  and  get  a  move 


on  I" 


I  was  there  in  fifteen  minutes.  Dowd  and  Steve 
were  waiting.  "What's  up?"  I  asked. 

"Hell's  to  pay  and  no  pitch  hot,"  said  Steve. 

"What  is  it?" 

"Catch  him  as  he  falls,  Tommie,"  said  Steve.  "Lis- 
ten, George,  and  remain  as  calm  as  possible.  We  know 
who  Hunkins  intends  to  put  into  the  p'rimary  for 
mayor." 

"Who?" 

"Perkins!" 

"Perkins !"  I  shouted.  "Oh,  you're  kidding.  It  isn't 
possible." 

"It  is  possible,  and  probable,  and  the  absolute  fact. 
He's  picked  Perkins." 


HUNKINS  PICKS  PERKINS  235 

"Why,  dammit,"  I  sputtered,  "the  thing's  absurd. 
Perkins  was  hand-in-glove  with  Pendergrast." 

"Even  so,  Hunkins  has  picked  him  as  his  candidate." 

"I  won't  stand  for  it!" 

"All  right,"  said  Steve,  "take  a  chair,  then.  It's 
true." 

I  couldn't  think  straight.  The  thing  hit  me  so  sud- 
denly and  seemed  so  preposterous.  I  recalled  my  con- 
versation with  Dad  about  Perkins  and  his  $40,000 
transaction  at  the  Consolidated  National  on  the  day 
after  the  Miller  exposure,  and  the  conclusion  Dad  drew 
from  that,  and  tried  to  square  that  with  the  often- 
displayed  vindictiveness  of  Hunkins  against  the  Pender- 
grast gang.  It  wouldn't  jibe. 

"It  can't  be  true,"  I  protested.  "Hunkins  wouldn't 
do  a  thing  like  that.  Besides,"  I  urged,  seeing  a  ray 
of  light,  "it  isn't  politics.  Perkins  doesn't  belong  to 
Hunkins'  party." 

"Oh,  yes,  he  does,"  said  Steve.  "He's  regular  that 
way." 

"But  I  tell  you  he  has  been  in  with  Pendergrast." 

"Why  not?  Perkins  isn't  the  man  to  let  a  little 
thing  like  party  affiliation  prevent  him  from  grabbing 
off  a  good  thing  now  and  then.  Pendergrast's  gang 
have  the  city  administration  now,  haven't  they?" 

"Yes." 

"That's  the  answer.  Perkins  plays  along  with  the 
ins,  of  course,  in  whatever  jobs  he  wants  to  put  over. 
That's  business,  but  his  politics  remains  unchanged; 
only  his  operations  shift." 

"Well,"  I  insisted,  "Hunkins  wouldn't  do  it,  unless 
— unless " 


23  6  HUNKINS 

"Say  it,"  urged  Dowd. 

"Unless  Hunkins  was  in  with  Pendergrast  and 
double-crossed  him." 

"I  wouldn't  put  it  past  Hunkins,"  said  Dowd,  "but 
what  do  you  mean?" 

"Why,  I  know  that  on  the  day  after  the  Miller  thing 
broke  Perkins  borrowed  $40,000,  in  a  great  rush,  at 
the  Consolidated  National,  and,  putting  that  fact 
against  some  other  things  I  know  I  am  almost  positive 
that  Perkins  advanced  that  money  to  Pendergrast  to 
help  make  up  the  shortage,  and  did  it  because  he  had 
to,  because  he  is,  in  some  way,  beholden  to  Pender- 
grast or  has  been  in  on  some  of  the  graft.  He  wouldn't 
lend  his  mother  $40,000  unless  he  had  to." 

"Ah,  ha!"  said  Dowd.  "The  plot  thickens. 
Maybe  that  is  the  reason,  or  maybe  not.  Anyhow, 
my  son,  why  did  you  hold  that  out  on  us?" 

"I  didn't  pay  much  attention  to  it  when  Dad  told 


me." 


"Your  father  told  you?" 

"Yes;  Dad  discovered  that  Perkins  borrowed  this 
money  at  that  time,  and  put  that  circumstance,  and 
Pendergrast's  known  need  of  quick  money  together. 
Also,  Dad  probably  knows  other  things  about  Perkins 
that  made  him  link  up  the  two  the  way  he  did." 

"Ah,  ha!  again,"  said  Dowd.  "Now  it  begins  to 
look  like  something.  If  John  Talbot  thinks  that  I 
think  it,  too." 

"What  are  we  going  to  do?"  I  asked,  while  Steve 
whistled  between  his  teeth:  "Where  do  we  go  from 
here,  boys,  where  do  we  go  from  here?" 

Dowd  made  no  reply  for  a  time.     I  looked  out  of 


HUNKINS  PICKS  PERKINS  237 

the  window  at  nothing.  Steve  whistled  shrilly,  and 
walked  about  the  room. 

"The  first  thing  to  do,"  said  Dowd  finally,  "is  to 
prove  the  truth  of  this  report  about  the  nomination  of 
Perkins." 

"But  you  told  me  it  is  unquestionable,"  I  reminded 
him. 

"So  it  is,  practically,  but  it  isn't  direct  from  Hunkins 
himself.  Steve  got  it  from  an  inside  source.  It  isn't 
to  be  announced  for  a  few  days.  He  can't  print  it, 
unfortunately,  or  we  might  head  it  off  that  way,  al- 
though Perkins  cannot  be  attacked  without  the  absolute 
goods  on  him,  for  he  is  a  big  person  in  this  com- 
munity. The  papers  will  be  gingerly  about  that  end 
of  it.  Anyhow,  Perkins  isn't  the  man  we  want.  We 
shall  not  be  able  to  make  any  sort  of  a  case  for  him 
with  the  boys." 

"I  should  say  not!"  exclaimed  Steve.  "Think  of 
asking  that  crowd  to  stand  for  the  hypocritical,  double- 
dealing  Perkins,  who  isn't  taking  back  any  too  freely 
his  clerks  who  went  to  war,  who  pays  the  smallest 
wages  in  the  city  to  his  women  help,  who  wasn't  for 
the  war,  anyhow,  until  it  was  shoved  down  his  throat, 
and  who  fought  organization  among  his  employees 
until  the  Federation  of  Labor  told  him  where  to  get  off. 
It  can't  be  done." 

"Well,  what  can  be  done?"  I  asked. 

"You  can  do  something  if  you  will,'*  said  Dowd. 
"Last  time  you  went  to  see  Hunkins  he  joshed  you. 
This  time  he  can't  josh.  You  can  put  it  up  to  him 
•traight  and  demand  a  yes  or  no," 

"On  what  grounds?" 


238  HUNKINS 

"On  the  grounds  that  you  are  not  only  a  member 
of  his  organization,  and  an  office  holder  therein,  but 
that  you,  also,  represent  a  soldiers'  organization  in 
this  city  that  will  cast  a  lot  of  votes,  and  will  not 
cast  those  votes  for  Perkins.  That  may  be  putting  it 
a  little  stronger  than  it  is,  but  you've  got  to  jolt  him, 
both  to  find  out,  and  to  stop  it  after  you  do  find  out." 

"I  can't  understand  it,"  I  said,  again.  "What  the 
devil  does  he  mean  by  such  a  selection?" 

"What  does  he  mean?"  repeated  Dowd.  "Why, 
he  means  that  the  good  old  days  shall  continue  and 
be  enjoyed  by  the  good  old  boys.  You  can  bet  all 
you've  got  that  he  isn't  nominating  Perkins  without 
knowing  exactly  where  Perkins  stands  and  how  he 
will  perform.  Hunkins  doesn't  trade  unsight  and  un- 
seen. He  joins  no  blind  pools.  They  are  all  tagged 
and  ticketed,  and  delivered  before  he  lets  them  in. 
And  Perkins  will  catch  as  many  votes  among  the 
business  and  professional  class  as  he  will  lose  because 
of  his  store  meannesses.  There  will  be  a  Hunkins 
slogan :  'A  business  man  for  mayor'  before  Perkins  has 
been  in  the  field  for  twenty  minutes." 

While  Dowd  was  talking  my  mind  began  to  clarify 
a  little.  Hunkins  either  is  or  is  not  planning  to  nomi- 
nate Perkins.  Why  not  ask  him  and  settle  it? 

"I'll  go  to  see  Hunkins  and  ask  him,"  I  said,  when 
Dowd  finished. 

"Good!"  exclaimed  Dowd.  "That's  the  thing  to 
do.  Put  it  up  to  him  cold  and  straight.  When?" 

"To-morrow." 

"Fine  I     By  that  time  I'll  probably  have  a  better 


HUNKINS  PICKS  PERKINS  239 

perspective  on  the  whole  affair.  Just  now  I'm  in  no 
shape  for  connected  thought." 

Nor  was  I,  save  for  my  determination  to  demand 
an  explanation  from  Hunkins,  if  the  story  is  true,  or 
to  get  a  denial  if  it  isn't.  After  all  my  hopes  and 
plans  to  help  in  obtaining  a  better  city  government  to 
be  handed  Perkins !  Politics  surely  is  a  tough  game. 

That  night,  at  dinner,  I  asked  Dad:  "Dad,  who 
do  you  think  will  be  nominated  for  mayor?" 

"For  mayor?  Oh,  I  don't  know.  Spearle  probably 
will  run  again." 

"I  mean  who  will  Hunkins  nominate?" 

Dad  laid  down  his  fork,  wiped  his  lips  with  his 
napkin,  and  appeared  to  give  the  matter  judicial  con- 
sideration. "Why,"  he  said,  in  a  few  moments,  "it 
might  be  Cass,  or  it  might  be  Stoddard,  or  it  might 
be  Camberwell,  or " 

"But  it  won't  be,"  I  interrupted.  "Hunkins  is  go- 
ing to  nominate  Perkins." 

Dad  stared  at  me.  "No,"  he  said.  "Somebody  is 
joking  you." 

"Dad,  I  tell  you  it's  true.  Hunkins  intends  to  nomi- 
nate Perkins." 

"Who  says  so?" 

"Steve  Fox." 

"Oh,  Steve  is  having  a  pipe  dream." 

"He  isn't.     It's  true." 

"Can't  be." 

"Darn  it,  Dad,  I  tell  you  it  is." 

Dad  looked  at  me  for  a  moment,  as  if  the  news  was 
just  breaking  into  his  skull.  Then  he  began  to  pull 
his  eyebrow. 


240  HUNKINS 

"Why,  it  is  incredible,"  he  said.  "Hunkins  cannot 
possibly  be  so  lost  to  a  sense  of  decency  as  to  nominate 
that  hypocrite,  the  accomplice  of  Pendergrast.  He's 
a  grafter.  He's  a  trimmer  and  plays  both  ends  against 
the  middle.  He's  not  fit.  He's " 

He  stopped,  pushed  back  his  chair,  and  tugged  vio- 
lently at  both  eyebrows.  That  means  a  volcanic  dis- 
turbance within  Dad.  One  eyebrow  is  bad,  but  two  are 
tremendous. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?"  he  asked, 
looking  fiercely  across  the  table  at  me. 

"I'm  going  to  see  Hunkins." 

"What  for?" 

"To  tell  him  we  won't  stand  for  it." 

"Who  is  we?" 

"The  soldiers,  and  others." 

"Do  you  mean  it?" 

"Certainly  I  mean  it." 

"Let  me  understand  this.  You  intend  to  go  to 
Hunkins  to-morrow  and  tell  him  that  the  soldiers  of 
the  city,  and  others,  will  not  support  Perkins?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  you  will  be  emphatic  about  it,  and  use  a  few 
cuss  words  if  necessary,  and  not  back  water  if  he  tries 
to  argue  you  out  of  it.  He's  smooth,  you  know." 

"I'll  stick." 

"Go  to  it!"  said  Dad,  coming  over  and  shaking 
hands  with  me.  "Go  to  itl  If  you  can  stop  that  it 
will  be  a  great  thing  for  the  city,  but  it  will  be  a 
hard  job.  Hunkins  is  a  determined  and  obstinate 


man." 


HUNKINS  PICKS  PERKINS  241 

"I  don't  care  if  he  is.  I'm  going  to  tell  him  about 
himself,  anyhow,  and  what  rotten  politics  it  is." 

"Good,"  said  Dad,  as  he  started  for  his  little  room 
and  his  blue  prints,  "I  hope  you  will.  Make  the  best 
fight  you  can,  and  if  he  persists  we'll  talk  it  over  and 
see  what  can  be  done." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

I  PICK  MYSELF 

GOME  at  noon  if  it  is  important,"  Hunkins 
said  to  me  when  I  telephoned  to  him  next 
morning,  "or  at  five  o'clock  if  it  can  wait  that 
long." 

"I'll  be  there  at  noon,"  I  told  him.    And  I  was. 

"Still  on  the  quest  for  the  hidden  candidate?"  he 
asked  me. 

"I  am." 

"Well,  I  appreciate  the  compliment,  admire  your 
pertinacity,  but  deplore  your  judgment.  As  I  asked 
you  before,  why  come  to  me?" 

"Because  you  have  selected  the  candidate." 

"Oh,  my  dear  Captain,  why  do  you  make  such  an 
assertion?  Certainly  you  cannot  hold  me  so  meanly 
as  to  doubt  my  disclaimers  at  our  last  conversation." 

"Mr.  Hunkins,"  I  said,  looking  him  squarely  in 
the  eye,  "I  do  doubt  them." 

He  was  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  smoking  a  ciga- 
rette, and  steadily  returned  my  look.  His  lips  twitched 
a  bit  at  the  corners,  but  otherwise  he  took  my  implica- 
tion of  evasion,  to  put  the  best  face  on  it,  without 
a  change  of  countenance,  or  attitude. 

"Wasn't  it  Scott  who  pointed  out  that  in  matters 
of  this  sort  it  is  easier  to  doubt  than  to  examine?"  he 

242 


I  PICK  MYSELF  243 

asked,  easily.  "I  think  so.  Or,  to  go  a  bit  further 
with  it,  I  remember  a  line  in  the  Satires  of  Horace,  in 
the  second  book,  as  I  recall  it:  'Acclinis  falsis  animus 
meliora  recusat,'  which,  on  the  hazard  that  you  have 
been  too  busy  with  politics  recently  to  renew  your 
acquaintance  with  my  great  philosopher  I  will  trans- 
late for  you  to  the  broad,  general  effect  that  a  mind  in- 
clined to  what  is  false  rejects  better  things.  I  make 
no  particular  personal  application,  and  present  the 
thought  as  descriptive,  perhaps,  of  a  mental  attitude 
of  many  others  besides  yourself." 

There  was  banter  in  his  voice,  but  his  eyes  were 
cold  and  hard.  He  was  indolent  in  his  chair,  and 
puffed  at  his  cigarette  as  if  the  smoking  of  it  was  the 
only  serious  matter  that  engaged  his  attention.  Plainly, 
he  was  having  fun  with  me,  as  well  as  making  a  close 
scrutiny  of  me,  and  I  felt  the  indignation  that  fol- 
lowed my  first  news  of  his  choice  of  Perkins  swell- 
ing again  within  me. 

"Mr.  Hunkins,"  I  said,  with  considerable  emphasis, 
"I  didn't  come  here  to  listen  to  quotations  from  dead 
and  musty  authors.  I  suggest  we  dispense  with  the 
literary  phases  of  this  conversation." 

"As  you  will;  and  may  I  inquire  what  you  did  come 
here  for?" 

"To  ask  you  whether  it  is  true  you  have  selected 
Perkins  as  your  candidate  for  mayor.  Is  it  true?" 

I  watched  him  closely.  His  expression  did  not 
change,  nor  did  he  shift  his  attitude.  So  far  as  plump- 
ing that  at  him  went  in  the  way  of  rousing  him  I  might 
as  well  have  said:  "I  came  to  tell  you  it  is  a  fine  day." 

"A  candid  question  deserves  a  candid  answer,"  he 


244  HUNKINS 

replied,  and  his  calmness  added  to  my  irritation. 
"However,  before  making  that  candid  answer  let  me 
develop  a  hypothesis,  perhaps  two.  Suppose  I  take 
the  statesman's  refuge  and  say  I  neither  affirm  nor 
deny?" 

"Then  I  shall  think  it  is  true." 

"That  disposes  of  that.  Suppose,  again,  I  say  it  is 
true.  Then  what?" 

"I  shall  protest." 

"Protest.  Ah,  a  light  begins  to  dawn.  As  I  gather 
your  position,  you  are  here  to  ascertain  if  Mr.  Perkins 
is  to  be  nominated  for  mayor  by  our  organization,  and, 
if  so,  you  protest.  Does  that  state  the  case  correctly?" 

I  boiled  over  at  that  moment.  "It  doesl"  I  ex- 
claimed, leaning  forward,  "and  I'll  be  obliged  if  you 
will  cut  out  your  persiflage  and  answer  the  question. 
I  want  to  know." 

Hunkins  lighted  another  cigarette  with  much  care, 
and  blew  a  cloud  of  smoke.  Then,  as  if  talking  to 
himself,  he  said:  "He  demands  to  know,  and  he  pro- 
tests. Upon  what  meat  doth  this  our  Caesar  feed? 
Well,  well,  I  am  nonplussed." 

"Look  here,  Hunkins,"  I  said,  and  I  couldn't  help 
raising  my  voice,  although  I  tried  to  control  myself, 
and  remain  as  calm  as  he  appeared  to  be,  "I  have  a 
right  to  demand  an  answer  to  that  question." 

"Right?    What  right?" 

"Because  I  am  interested  in  good  government  for 
this  city." 

"The  implication  being  that  I  am  not,  I  suppose." 

"If  you  are  you  will  not  nominate  Perkins." 


I  PICK  MYSELF  245 

"Has  anybody  here  but  you  said  that  Perkins  will 
be  nominated?" 

"No,  but  you're  going  to  nominate  him  just  the 
same.  You're  only  sparring  for  time." 

"Sparring  for  time  against  such  an  antagonist?  You 
certainly  do  hold  me  in  small  esteem." 

That  sneer  cast  me  adrift  with  my  steering  gear  dis- 
mantled. I  pounded  on  the  desk. 

"I  may  be  more  of  an  antagonist  than  you  think," 
I  asserted,  vehemently,  "but  all  this  isn't  getting  us 
anywhere.  Once  more  I  ask  you:  Do  you  intend  to 
nominate  Perkins?" 

Hunkins  pursed  his  lips  and  let  a  trickle  of  smoke 
escape.  He  seemed  almost  bored. 

"Well,"  he  said,  slowly,  "since  you,  apparently,  will 
not  be  happy  unless  you  can  mix  in  affairs  that  are 
of  no  concern  to  you,  and  as  I  love  to  see  all  my 
fellow-creatures  happy,  I  may  as  well  tell  you  I  shall 
nominate  Perkins,  as  you  say,  albeit  I  usually  refer  to 
him  as  Mr.  Perkins." 

He  spoke  with  an  amused  superiority  that  made  me 
furious.  It  was  like  a  teacher  stating  an  axiom  to  a 
peevish  little  boy. 

"You  can't  do  it!"  I  exclaimed.    "You  can't  do  it!" 

"Cannot  do  it?    Why  not,  pray?" 

Of  course,  I  had  no  answer  for  that.  He  can  do 
it,  if  he  chooses.  I  felt  myself  slipping. 

"I  mean  you  must  not  do  it,"  I  said,  vehemently, 
thinking  to  cover  my  lapse. 

"Must  not?  That  assertion  is  even  more  astound- 
ing than  the  other.  To  tell  me  I  cannot  implies  lack 
of  power  on  my  part,  merely,  but  to  give  me  an  im- 


246  HUNKINS 

perative  must  infers  superiority  in  you.  Why  mustn't 
I?" 

"Oh,  hell,  Hunkins,"  I  said,  "this  sort  of  talk  has 
gone  on  long  enough.  I  don't  care  how  much  you  sit 
and  quibble,  I  tell  you  that  it  will  be  a  crime  to  nomi- 
nate Perkins." 

Hunkins  sat  up  in  his  chair  at  that,  threw  away 
his  cigarette,  and  abandoned  his  attitude  of  indolent 
toleration.  His  face  hardened.  Two  little  bunches 
came,  one  at  each  corner  of  his  mouth,  and  his  eyes 
bored  into  me. 

"Crime !"  he  repeated,  sharply.  "What  do  you 
mean  by  that?" 

•"I  mean  that  Perkins  isn't  fit  and  you  know  it.  I 
mean  he  was  in  with  the  Pendergrast  gang.  I  mean 
that  he  had  been  participator  in,  if  not  actual  pro- 
moter of,  a  lot  of  the  grafting  done  in  this  city  by 
the  office-holders  and  politicians.  I  mean  that  he  is 
a  two-faced,  double-dealing  pharisee,  isn't  square,  and 
is  on  the  make;  and  that  under  him  things  will  be 
just  the  same  in  the  City  Hall  as  they  have  been,  or 
worse.  That's  what  I  mean." 

I  realized,  in  my  heat,  I  had  gone  somewhat  further 
in  denouncing  Perkins  than  the  evidence  at  hand  justi- 
fied, but  I  felt,  was  convinced,  that  a  man  who  was  in 
with  Prendergrast,  as  I  fully  believed  Perkins  was, 
would  be  no  amateur.  That  wasn't  his  first  participa- 
tion. I  wondered  what  Hunkins  would  say,  and  I 
wasn't  long  in  discovering. 

"I  deny  those  assertions  categorically,"  Hunkins  an- 
swered to  this  outburst.  Then  he  paused,  looked  me 
up  and  down,  and  proceeded  to  castigate  me  with  as 


I  PICK  MYSELF  247 

much  precision,  and  almost  as  much  effect,  as  if  he 
were  using  a  rawhide  with  timed  and  deliberate  strokes. 

"I  deny  what  you  assert,"  he  said,  "although  it  is 
giving  you  too  much  consideration  to  deny,  even.  Be- 
fore I  show  you  the  door  I  require  an  answer  to  this 
question:  By  what  right,  or  assumption  of  right,  do 
you  come  here  and  talk  to  me  in  this  manner;  by  what 
authority,  actual  or  implied — you,  a  boy  I  put  into  a 
minor  place,  and  gave  an  opportunity  to  get  some 
prominence?  That  prominence  appears  to  have  de- 
stroyed your  perspective,  and  dulled  your  sense  of 
humor,  if  you  have  one.  What  do  you  mean  by  it? 
What  is  your  excuse?" 

"I  don't  need  any  excuse,"  I  replied,  facing  him 
squarely.  "I  am  a  member  of  the  party  you  lead,  and 
I  come  to  you  to  protest  against  an  action  I  think 
injudicious,  unwise,  yes,  criminal.  I  get  my  right  from 
my  interest  in  good  government  for  this  city.  I  do  not 
assume  it.  I  have  it.  Now,  I've  told  you  what  I 
think,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?" 

I  rose,  doubled  my  fists,  and  stuck  out  my  chin.  I 
was  so  indignant  I  was  ready  to  fight,  almost  anxious 
to,  indeed.  I  hoped  he  would  start  something.  In- 
stead, his  face  relaxed,  and  he  laughed. 

"What  am  I  going  to  do  about  it?"  he  repeated. 
"Why,  I  am  going  to  advise  you  to  seek  some  secluded 
spot  and  endeavor  to  attain  your  normal  proportions, 
which  advice  I  tender  herewith.  It  is  then  my  inten- 
tion to  bid  you  good  afternoon;  and,  at  the  proper 
time,  I  shall  nominate  Mr.  Perkins  for  mayor.  Now, 
having  been  thus  frank  with  you,  I  trust  before  I  in- 


248  HUNKINS 

vite  you  to  leave  you  will  be  equally  frank  with  me. 
What  are  you  going  to  do  ?" 

"I'll  run  against  him!" 

The  first  time  I  ever  had  that  thought,  or  deter- 
mination, was  when  I  shouted  it  at  Hunkins,  standing 
before  him  in  the  little  room  in  Martin  Street,  my  chin 
protruding,  my  legs  braced,  my  fists  doubled.  It 
seemed  to  come  from  somewhere  outside  and  to  be 
hammered  into  my  head  by  the  mighty  stroke  of  some 
unseen  force.  I  started,  gasped  as  I  heard  myself 
say  the  words,  but,  instantly,  it  was  clear  to  me  that 
that  was  a  solution,  a  way  to  make  my  protest  effective. 

"I'll  run  against  him!"  I  repeated,  firmly,  but  in  a 
lower  voice. 

Hunkins,  still  seated  in  his  chair,  laughed  a  con- 
temptuous laugh.  "That,"  he  said,  "will  be  a  most 
welcome,  if  futile,  diversion.  It  will  add  gayety  to  a 
campaign  that  threatens  to  be  dull  and  uninteresting. 
Good-afternoon.  Don't  forget  that  the  law  says  your 
nominating  petition  must  be  filed  four  weeks  before 
the  date  of  the  primary,"  he  mocked  as  I  went  out. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

TALBOT  FOR  MAYOR 

MY  temples  were  throbbing  and  my  heart 
pounding  as  I  walked  down  Martin  Street. 
I  was  chagrined  over  the  way  Hunkins 
treated  me,  and  frightened  over  my  threat 
to  run  against  Perkins.  To  be  sure,  I  argued  with  my- 
self, I  have  not  made  that  claim,  or  statement,  or 
threat  or  boast,  or  whatever  it  is  to  any  person  but 
Hunkins,  and  if  I  do  not  run  he  can  only  turn  it  into 
a  joke  to  be  circulated  among  the  politicians.  I  am 
not  beholden  by  what  I  said.  It  was  the  result  of 
Hunkins  taunting  me  as  he  did,  the  reflex  from  his 
sneers,  and  sarcasm,  and  contempt  over  what  I  said, 
and  my  attitude.  It  need  go  no  further;  but  while 
I  tried  to  convince  myself  of  the  absurdity  of  the 
thought  of  my  running  for  mayor  against  Perkins,  an 
insistent  Why  not — why  not?  beat  down  my  arguments. 
I  stopped  in  the  street.  "Why  not?  Why  not?" 
kept  pounding  in  my  head.  "Well,  why  not?"  I 
thought.  "I  am  an  American  citizen,  of  legal  age, 
and  I  am  in  politics.  I  am  opposed  to  Perkins,  and, 
consequently,  from  this  time,  opposed  to  Hunkins.  I 
believe  that  Perkins  must  be  beaten.  I  may  be  able 
to  help  bring  that  about.  It  might  be  easier  for  me 
personally,  more  comfortable,  to  get  some  one  else  to 

249. 


250  HUNKINS 

run,  but  I  am  identified  with  the  soldiers — I  am  a 
soldier — I  am  in  politics — I  have  a  clean  record — I 
am  somewhat  known  to  the  people — why  not?" 

As  I  was  standing  there  a  taxicab  drew  up  to  the 
curb,  and  I  heard  a  woman's  voice  say:  "How  do  you 
do,  Captain  Talbot?  You  seem  lost,  or  something 
like  that.  May  I  help  you  find  yourself?" 

It  was  Miss  Crawford  who  hailed  me.  She  was 
smiling  at  me  from  the  cab. 

"Will  you?"  I  asked  her,  eagerly.  "May  I  ride  with 
you?  I  would  like  to  talk  with  you." 

"Certainly,"  she  replied.  "Get  in.  I  am  going 
down  to  the  Tucker  Building." 

"That  isn't  far  enough,"  I  said,  with  my  hand  on 
the  door.  "Let's  drive  out  to  the  park  and  back." 

"I'm  rather  busy,"  she  protested. 

"Please  do.  I  am  very  anxious  to  talk  to  you  on 
an  important  matter — important  to  me,  anyhow." 

"Very  well,"  she  assented,  "but  only  out  and  back." 
I  told  the  driver  to  go  to  the  Lamphier  Gate  of  the 
Park,  and  to  return  to  the  Tucker  Building,  and  got  in. 
That  would  take  half  an  hour.  I  felt  myself  lucky 
in  being  discovered  in  the  first  stage  of  my  problem 
by  Miss  Crawford.  She  has  sense,  and  knows  politics. 
Of  course,  there  are  Dad — and  Tommie  Dowd — 
but 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked,  coming  directly  to  the 
point. 

"Have  you  heard  that  Hunkins  intends  to  nominate 
Perkins  for  mayor?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Dowd  told  me  yesterday." 

"And  you  know  about  Perkins?" 


TALBOT  FOR  MAYOR  251 

"Yes,  in  a  general  way." 

"That  disposes  of  the  preliminaries.  Dowd  told 
me,  also,  and  I  said  I  would  see  Hunkins  and  ask 
him  whether  it  is  true.  It  is  true." 

"Did  Hunkins  tell  you  so?" 

"Yes,  he  said  so  definitely,  and  was  most  contemptu- 
ous over  my  temerity  in  asking  him  about  it,  and  pro- 
testing against  it.  Anyhow,  to  come  to  the  nubbin 
of  it,  after  I  made  my  protest  he  sneeringly  asked 

me  what  I  intend  to  do  about  it — and — and "  I 

was  embarrassed  and  ill  at  ease.  I  feared  she  might 
laugh  at  me. 

"What  did  you  tell  him?"  she  asked. 

"I  told  him  that  I  will  run  against  Perkins." 

"For  mayor?" 

"Yes.    What  do  you  think  of  that?" 

She  wrinkled  her  forehead,  and  looked  out  of  the 
cab  window  for  a  few  moments.  Then  she  turned  to 
me  and  said:  "Why  not?" 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  think  it  is  a  good  plan?" 

"I  think  so,  provided  you  are  in  earnest,  and  did 
not  make  the  threat,  if  it  was  a  threat,  because  you 
were  piqued  at  Hunkins,  angry  at  his  reception  of 
your  protest.  Did  you?" 

"That  might  have  had  something  to  do  with  it, 
but  not  all.  I  give  you  my  word  it  never  occurred  to 
me  until  I  found  myself  standing  there  in  front  of 
Hunkins,  who,  plainly,  takes  me  to  be  a  conceited, 
swell-headed  youngster,  and  holds  me  as  just  that  and 
nothing  more.  Then  it  burst  over  me  that  to  run 
against  Perkins  is  a  way  to  make  an  effective  protest 
— not  to  talk,  but  to  do  something,  and  I  told  him 


252  HUNKINS 

I  shall  run.  As  you  say,  why  not?"  I  recapitulated 
my  arguments  to  myself  in  favor  of  such  a  step.  She 
listened  gravely. 

As  we  drew  up  in  front  of  the  Tucker  Building,  she 
shook  hands  with  me  and  said:  "I  think  you  should. 
Politically,  it  is  feasible.  We  need  a  concrete  point 
for  the  demonstration  of  our  soldier  strength,  and  for 
an  incentive  for  them.  They  like  you.  They  know 
you,  because  you  have  been  among  them  so  much.  You 
have  a  good  standing  in  the  community.  You  are 
known  politically  because  of  the  Miller  exposure  and 
admired  even  in  non-political  circles  for  that.  I  advise 
you  to  run." 

I  was  much  encouraged  when  I  said  good-by  to  her 
at  the  elevator,  and  felt  almost  a  candidate  as  I  went 
to  talk  it  over  with  Dowd;  hoping  he  might  agree 
with  Miss  Crawford,  but  feeling  that  he  must  advance 
some  very  weighty  arguments  to  dissuade  me.  I  made 
that  decision,  first  off,  myself.  Then  Miss  Crawford 
endorsed  it.  If  Dowd  and  Dad  approve — but  will 
they? 

"Tommie,"  I  said  to  Dowd,  as  I  entered  his  office, 
"I  have  an  important  communication  to  make  to  you." 

"Shoot,"  said  Tommie,  whirling  his  chair  around. 

"I  am  going  to  run  for  mayor  against  Perkins." 

Dowd  looked  at  me  appraisingly  for  a  moment, 
took  a  puff  or  two  at  his  cigar,  and  then  asked,  quietly: 

"Why  not?" 

"That's  what  everybody  says!"  I  exclaimed. 

"Who's  everybody?" 

"Why — er — er — Miss  Crawford,  and — and — my- 
self." 


TALBOT  FOR  MAYOR  253 

"Quite  a  representative  body  of  citizens,  I  should 
say,"  and  Dowd  laughed.  "Tell  me  about  it,"  he  said. 

I  told  him  the  story,  from  first  to  last,  including  my 
conversation  with  Miss  Crawford  and  what  she  said. 
Dowd  asked  many  questions,  particularly  about  the 
attitude  and  definiteness  of  Hunkins  as  to  the  Perkins 
nomination,  and  chuckled  over  my  report  of  my  casti- 
gation.  He  probed  me  incessantly  for  two  hours,  go- 
ing into  my  convictions  as  to  civic  government,  as  to 
the  duties  and  the  opportunities  of  the  soldiers,  as  to 
many  other  things  I  had  no  idea  might  have  a  bearing 
on  a  primary  contest  for  a  city  office.  This  completed, 
he  came  over  to  me,  put  his  hand  on  my  shoulder  and 
said:  "George,  do  you  believe  in  yourself;  do  you  look 
at  this  in  a  broader  light  than  a  means  for  personal 
advancement;  are  you  sure  that  it  isn't  because  you 
are  angry  at  Hunkins?" 

"Tommie,"  I  replied,  "I  admit  that  at  first,  when 
I  told  Hunkins,  I  was  angry,  and  that  the  idea  might 
have  had  its  beginning  from  that,  from  the  desire  to 
get  even  with  him,  to  punish  him  for  the  way  he  spanked 
me;  but  since  I  have  talked  to  Miss  Crawford,  and 
while  I  have  been  talking  to  you,  I  have  begun  to  think 
it  is  a  good  thing,  in  many  other  ways  than  personal; 
and  will  be.  I  am  not  posing,  and  shall  not,  as  a 
crusader,  or  an  uplifter,  nor  as  a  young  messiah,  but 
I  do  think  that  if  we  can  we  should  prevent  the  election 
of  Perkins  as  mayor,  and  if  I  can  help  that  way  I 
am  ready." 

"You  understand  the  grueling  you  will  get,  do  you? 
It's  no  summer  day's  picnic  to  run  for  mayor  in  this 
town.  The  opposition  is  shrewd,  and  vicious.  They 


254  HUNKINS 

will  make  it  most  unpleasant  for  you.  You  will  be 
ridiculed,  abused,  assailed  in  every  imaginable  way." 

That  stirred  the  fighting  blood  in  me.  "All  right," 
I  answered.  "I  think  I  can  stand  the  gaff,  and  we 
can  play  at  that  game  as  well  as  they  can." 

"We  surely  can,"  said  Dowd.  "If  you  honestly  feel 
that  way  about  it,  and  want  to  try  it,  I'm  for  you, 
heart  and  soul." 

We  shook  hands,  and  in  five  minutes  were  deep  in 
the  city  charter  and  the  state  election  law,  getting  the 
detail  of  the  processes  antecedent  to  filing  a  proper 
petition  establishing  me  as  a  candidate  in  the  primary. 

Once  we  had  those  formalities  straight,  Tommie's 
mind  began  to  work,  and  he  planned  a  tentative  cam- 
paign that  included  a  soldiers'  mass  meeting,  or  sev- 
eral of  them,  ward  organizations,  a  central  organiza- 
tion, speeches,  literature,  finances.  He  went  into  detail 
that  amazed  me. 

"Lord,"  I  said,  "does  it  take  all  of  that?" 

"Yes,  and  then  some.  You  are  going  against  a 
machine  that  is  working  smoothly,  that  is  long  estab- 
lished, and  not  too  scrupulous  in  its  methods.  The 
only  way  you  can  win  is  by  the  force  of  publicity. 
We  must  impress  on  this  city  that  you  stand  for 
cleaner  government.  We'll  have  to  proclaim  you  like 
a  breakfast  food,  show  you  to  be  as  wonderful  as 
one  of  those  young  men  in  the  advertisements  who  run 
their  salaries  up  from  ten  dollars  a  week  to  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars  a  year  by  taking  a  course  in  psychology 
by  mail.  You'll  have  small  sleep,  no  comfort  and 
darned  little  anything  else  but  work  from  now  until 
the  night  of  the  primary,  but  you'll  have  a  lot  of  fun, 


TALBOT  FOR  MAYOR  255 

and  so  shall  I,  and  we'll  make  it  interesting,  at  any 
rate,  for  Brother  Hunkins  and  Pharisee  Perkins.  How 
about  money?" 

I  hadn't  thought  of  the  financial  requirements  of 
my  plan.  Tommie's  question  startled  me. 

"Will  it  cost  much?"  I  asked. 

"Considerable,"  he  replied.  "You  see,  the  other 
fellows  have  a  going  organization,  and  aside  from 
the  soldiers,  we  must  build  from  the  ground  up.  We 
can't  use  the  soldiers  as  a  machine  for  you,  except  in- 
directly. That  wouldn't  be  good  politics,  nor  good 
sense.  We've  got  to  form  a  personal,  Talbot-for-. 
mayor  campaign  committee,  and  finance  that  indepen- 
dently. Then  we  shall  be  able  to  throw  our  soldier 
organization  in  behind  you,  but  it  cannot  be  specifically 
a  Talbot  force.  We'll  be  for  you,  but  we  cannot  be 
yours  in  a  personal  sense.  That  would  detract  from 
the  real  purposes  of  our  work.  Have  you  any  money?" 

"A  few  thousand  dollars,  five  or  six,  perhaps." 

"Will  you  back  yourself  with  it — it's  a  bet,  you 
know." 

"Certainly.    I'll  give  you  a  check  for  it  immediately." 

"All  right.  That  will  do  for  a  starter.  Will  your 
father  help?" 

"I  hope  so." 

"Find  out  as  soon  as  you  can.  And  there  will  be 
others." 

"What  others?" 

"I  don't  know  yet,  but  there  will  be.  There  never 
is  much  difficulty  in  financing  a  thing  of  this  sort  if  it 
is  handled  right.  It's  astonishing  how  people  put  up 
for  movements  and  societies  and  leagues  and  all  that 


256  HUNKINS 

sort  of  thing.  There's  a  new  profession  in  this  country 
— the  profession  of  vocational  reformers  and  uplift 
experts.  They  organize  these  leagues  and  things  for 
the  salaries  they  get  for  being  secretaries  to  them.  But 
that  is  by  the  way.  With  enough  to  start  on  we  will 
be  able  to  pull  through  all  right." 

"How  much  will  we  need  to  start  ?" 

"Ten  thousand  dollars." 

"I  can  get  that  much,"  I  said  confidently,  thinking 
of  my  own  five  or  six  thousand,  and  Dad. 

"Get  it  as  soon  as  you  can.    Where's  Steve  Fox?" 

"At  the  office,  I  suppose." 

"Well,  Steve  must  handle  the  publicity.  I'll  do  the 
general  politics.  You  will  make  the  speeches  and  do 
the  handshaking,  and  Miss  Crawford  will  look  after 
the  headquarters  detail  and  be  treasurer.  There's  a 
quartette  that  will  stir  'em  up.  Let's  go  and  quaff  a 
couple  on  it  while  as  yet  the  chance  remains." 

That  night  I  told  Dad.  "Dad,"  I  began,  "you  don't 
think  Perkins  is  a  fit  man  to  be  mayor  of  this  city, 
do  you?" 

"I  do  not,"  said  Dad,  emphatically.  "He  has 
always  managed  to  maintain  his  standing,  chiefly  by  his 
church-going  and  other  hypocrisies,  but  I  firmly  believe 
him  to  be  a  crook.  I  don't  think  he  ever  did  any 
actual  stealing,  but  he  has  planned  a  lot,  and  has 
taken  his  big  share  of  the  swag." 

"All  right,"  I  said.  "Now  I  want  to  tell  you  what 
happened  to-day." 

He  listened  to  my  story  intently,  questioned  me 
closely  about  the  detail  of  my  meeting  with  Hunkins, 
and  searchingly  as  to  my  reasons  and  conclusions,  ideas 


TALBOT  FOR  MAYOR  257 

and  ideals.  He  went  into  the  difficulties  of  the  cam- 
paign, painted  the  troubles  I  will  have  rather  darkly, 
and  assayed  me  even  closer  than  Dowd  had  done.  All 
his  inquiry  was  to  discover  whether  I  am  in  earnest, 
or  merely  wounded  in  my  vanity  by  Hunkins,  and 
desirous  of  reprisal. 

"Of  course,  Dad,"  I  said  to  him,  as  I  said  to  Dowd, 
"I  admit  that  the  first  thought  of  it  came  when  I  was 
blazing  with  anger  at  Hunkins,  when  he  had  jabbed 
me,  and  japed  me  until  I  was  sore  all  over;  but  while 
that  started  it,  it  is  a  bigger  thing  than  that  now.  I 
want  to  run  because  I  think  I  can  do  some  good  for 
the  city  by  running.  That's  the  great  side  of  it  in 
my  mind  now.  I  still  cherish  a  human  desire  to  land 
on  Hunkins,  but  that  isn't  the  only  motive.  I'm  going 
into  it  whether  you  approve  or  not.  You  remember, 
when  I  first  talked  to  you  about  politics  you  were  not 
enthusiastic.  Since  then  a  good  many  things  have  hap- 
pened, and  now  I  think  I  see  my  way  to  make  an 
effort  worth  while.  I  want  you  with  me,  Dad,  not 
only  because  you  are  a  big  man  in  this  community,  but 
because  you  are  my  father.  Will  you  stand  by?" 

Dad  put  out  his  hand.  He  turned  his  head  a  little, 
but  I  saw  his  eyes  winking  rapidly,  and  my  eyes  were 
a  bit  moist,  also. 

I  took  his  hand  and  pressed  it.  "To  the  limit, 
George,"  he  said.  He  swallowed  hard  two  or  three 
times,  then,  as  if  ashamed  of  having  shown  any  feel- 
ing, said,  briskly:  "Now,  then,  let's  get  down  to  the 
practical  side  of  it.  How  much  will  it  cost?" 

"I  don't  know  yet.     Dowd  thinks  twenty  thousand 


258  HUNKINS 

dollars  will  be  plenty.  We've  got  to  build  from  the 
ground  up,  you  know,  as  he  points  out." 

"Well,"  said  Dad,  "it  won't  be  good  sense,  good 
politics,  nor  good  anything  else  to  make  this  exclusively 
a  Talbot  enterprise.  You  and  Dowd  and  the  rest  of 
you  raise  what  you  can,  and  I'll  guarantee  all  deficits. 
That's  the  best  way  for  me  to  work." 

"Thank  you,  Dad,"  I  said. 

"Go  to  it,"  he  said,  "I'm  with  you  to  the  end  of 
the  trail." 

"Then  I  can't  lose,"  I  replied,  and  Dad  went  off 
to  his  blue  prints,  humming  a  little  tune  as  he  went. 


WE  GET  UNDER  WAY 

AT  the  beginning  our    campaign  organization 
consisted  of  Miss  Crawford,   Dowd,  Steve 
Fox  and  myself.     Dowd  has  an  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  city,  and  of  ward  and  divi- 
sional influences  and  how  to  exploit  or  counteract  them. 
Steve  is  familiar  with  the  inner  workings  of  the  organ- 
izations, and  knows  what  men  do  certain  things.    Miss 
Crawford  has  shrewd  political  sense,  and  a  good  execu- 
tive training  and  a  capability.    I  acted  as  general  sitter- 
in,  helping  wherever  I  could.     We  met  at  the  Tucker 
Building,  but  Dowd  said  we  must  have  headquarters 
of  our  own,  later,  as  my  campaign  and  the  soldiers' 
organization,  which  is  non-partisan,  must  be  kept  dis- 
tinctly separate. 

At  our  first  meeting  Dowd  said:  "As  I  look  at  it, 
the  three  basic  propositions  that  concern  us  are  these : 
First,  not  to  announce  Talbot's  candidacy  until  we 
get  as  much  of  a  foundation  for  it  as  we  can,  and 
certainly  not  until  Hunkins  shows  his  hand  with  Per- 
kins. He  must  be  our  reason — Perkins.  Second,  to 
dig  up  everything  about  Perkins  that  will  help  us. 
Third,  to  form  a  campaign  committee  of  the  best 
people  we  can  get,  half  of  men  and  half  of  women, 
to  stand  back  of  Talbot." 

259 


260  HUNKINS 

"The  second  is  the  more  important,"  I  said. 

"I  think  so,  too,"  Dowd  assented,  "especially  as  Hun- 
kins'  delay  in  announcing  his  man  is  playing  into  our 
hands.  Still,  that  may  be  good  politics,  for  Hunkins 
undoubtedly  knows  as  much  about  Perkins  as  any  other, 
probably  more,  and  figures  that  the  shorter  the  cam- 
paign is  the  easier  it  will  be  for  his  organization  to 
put  Perkins  over.  Steve  has  been  working  on  the  Per- 
kins record  since  we  first  heard  the  news.  We  think 
this  will  give  us  a  far  better  opportunity  to  demon- 
strate with  the  soldiers  than  a  campaign  with  no  other 
incentive  than  the  soldiers'  desire  to  elect  a  soldier.  It 
furnishes  a  moral  impulse,  which  sounds  priggish,  but 
is  a  fact,  just  the  same;  and  I  was  trying  to  think  of 
a  suitable  candidate  when  you  thought  of  yourself, 
George,  and  solved  the  problem." 

"Solved  it?"  I  answered.  "Why,  we  haven't  stated 
the  premises  of  it  yet.  It  will  be  a  hard  problem  to 
solve." 

"Cheer  up !"  laughed  Dowd.  "The  worst  is  yet  to 
come.  If  you  think  it  is  difficult  now,  before  you  are 
in  deeper  than  your  ankles,  I  wonder  how  it  will  strike 
you  when  you  get  in  up  to  your  neck." 

"Sink  or  swim,  survive  or  perish!"  declaimed  Steve. 
"So  long  as  George  doesn't  get  in  over  his  head  it 
will  be  all  right." 

"Are  you  getting  anything  more  on  Perkins?"  I  asked 
Steve. 

"Some  things,"  he  replied,  "but  I  shan't  be  ready 
to  report  for  a  few  days." 

We  discussed  the  campaign  committee.  I  thought 
two  committees,  one  of  men  and  another  of  women, 


WE  GET  UNDER  WAY  261 

would  be  best,  but  Dowd  over-ruled  that.  "One  com- 
mittee," he  said,  "half  of  men  and  half  of  women. 
There  are  a  lot  of  women  voters  in  this  town,  and  we 
must  not  start  wrong  with  them  by  giving  them  what 
they  may  think  is  a  sideshow  while  the  men  have  the 
main  tent.  Equal  representation,  you  know,  and  all 
that.  How  about  it,  Miss  Crawford?" 

One  of  Dowd's  delights  is  to  angle  for  a  rise  from 
Miss  Crawford  with  remarks  like  that.  Miss  Craw- 
ford smiled  a  tiny  smile  at  Steve  and  myself,  and 
winked  the  ghost  of  a  wink. 

"I  think  you  are  right,  Mr.  Dowd,"  she  said,  gravely. 
"Of  course  if  you  mean  equal  representation  in  any 
other  way  than  numerically  I  suggest  that  you  select 
thirty-five  men  and  fifteen  women,  because  at  twenty- 
five  and  twenty-five  the  women  will  far  over-balance 
the  men  in  general  intelligence,  industry  and  aptness. 
Thirty-five  to  fifteen  will  be  about  a  proper  propor- 
tion." 

"Why  not  make  the  committee  all  women,  then?'* 
asked  Dowd. 

"Oh,"  Miss  Crawford  replied,  "we  couldn't  expect 
such  perfect  political  prescience  as  that  from  a  mere 
man." 

"Dowd  loses  1"  shouted  Steve,  and  everybody 
laughed. 

We  made  a  list  of  a  hundred  committee  prospects; 
not  that  we  want  a  hundred,  but  that  we  do  want  at 
least  fifty,  and  laid  out  plans  for  approaching  them. 
Letters  and  literature  were  prepared,  to  be  sent  to 
all  these  at  the  moment  my  candidacy  was  announced, 
other  publicity  was  written,  and  Dowd  took  an  option 


262  HUNKINS 

on  some  rooms  in  the  newly-completed  Power  Build- 
ing, giving  as  a  reason  that  he  might  need  them  for 
use  of  the  soldier  organization  as  more  space  than 
the  Tucker  Building  afforded  is  required.  It  was  de- 
cided to  enlist  Mrs.  Ainsley,  and  Miss  Harrow,  if 
possible,  to  help  with  the  woman's  end  of  it,  as  Miss 
Crawford  will  be  busy  in  headquarters  if  things  turn 
out  well. 

I  went  to  see  Miss  Harrow,  told  her  about  our  plans 
and  asked  her  if  she  will  help. 

"Help?  Certainly  I'll  help,"  she  said.  "I'm  glad 
that  some  man  in  this  city  has  courage  enough  to  stand 
up  against  those  gangs.  I'll  do  everything  I  can. 
Wait  a  minute."  She  went  into  her  study,  and  re- 
turned with  a  check  in  her  hand. 

"Here,"  she  said,  "take  this.  It's  all  I  can  afford, 
and  I  wish  it  was  ten  times  as  much." 

I  looked  at  the  check,  which  was  drawn  to  me,  and 
it  was  for  five  hundred  dollars.  Somehow,  the  idea 
of  taking  money  from  a  woman  gave  me  a  queer  feel- 
ing. I  protested.  "Oh,  Miss  Harrow,"  I  said,  "we 
shall  have  enough  money,  I  am  sure.  I  do  not " 

"Pish!"  she  interrupted.  "Have  some  sense.  You 
will  need  all  the  money  you  can  get.  Ideals  are  all  right, 
but  they  must  be  supplied  with  motive  power.  There 
will  be  no  manna  from  Heaven  falling  into  your  laps  in 
this  fight,  fearless  young  crusader  for  the  right  that  you 
may  be.  I  am  practical  about  it.  Why  shouldn't  you 
be?  Do  you  hesitate  because  I  am  a  woman?  Don't 
you  think  I  am  as  much  interested  in  this  campaign  as 
you  are?  I  am,  and  I  demand  my  right  to  contribute. 
Possibly  I  can  spare  more  if  you  need  it.  Now,  then, 


WE  GET  UNDER  WAY  263 

run  along  and  go  to  work.  I'll  come  whenever  I  am 
called." 

Her  bombardment  with  that  succession  of  short  sen- 
tences routed  me,  and  I  found  myself  out  in  the  street 
with  the  check  in  my  hand. 

"Here  is  the  first  campaign  contribution,"  I  said 
to  Dowd  and  Miss  Crawford  when  I  got  back  to  the 
office.  "Five  hundred  dollars  from  Miss  Harrow." 

"You  don't  mean  it!"  exclaimed  Dowd.  "I  never 
expected  anything  like  that." 

"I  did,"  Miss  Crawford  said.  "I  know  Miss  Har- 
row." 

One  subject  of  much  discussion  was  the  newspapers. 
"It  is  my  opinion,"  said  Steve,  "that  the  News  will  be 
friendly,  but  not  partisan.  The  Globe  will  hammer  you 
to  a  pulp.  The  Dispatch  will  follow  the  Globe's  lead 
in  the  afternoon,  and  the  Times  will  be  kindly,  but  calm. 
The  Journal  ought  to  be  for  you,  inasmuch  as  you  will 
oppose  the  machine,  and  the  Journal  is  against  all  ma- 
chines until  it  can  bring  about  a  socialistic  machine — 
like  all  the  rest  of  them.  But  what  difference  does 
it  make?" 

"Why,"  I  said,  "isn't  newspaper  support  essential?" 

"Helpful,  perhaps,"  Steve  replied,  "but  I  wouldn't 
call  it  essential.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  throw  stones 
at  my  noble  profession,  albeit  it  isn't  what  it  used  to 
be,  having  become,  mostly,  an  asylum  for  former  presi- 
dents, and  ex-officeholders,  and  other  and  various  exes, 
has-beens,  would-bes  and  never-wasers,  who  by  virtue 
of  their  past  performances,  real  or  alleged,  and  not 
because  of  their  present  wisdom  scab  the  regular  news- 
paper man's  job — far  be  it  from  me  to  asperse  my  meal 


264  HUNKINS 

ticket,  but  the  trick  can  be  turned  without  the  support 
of  the  press. 

"For  example,  I  noticed  in  New  York  city,  a  year 
ago  last  fall,  that  Mitchel  was  defeated  notwithstand- 
ing the  fact  that  all  the  papers,  except  the  Hearst 
string,  were  for  him;  and  I've  seen  the  same  thing 
happen  elsewhere — in  Chicago,  when  Carter  Harrison 
walked  in  once,  and  maybe  twice,  in  defiance  of  the 
shrieks  of  opposition  from  a  press  united  against  him 
and  when  Thompson  won  this  year.  It  has  hap- 
pened so  elsewhere,  also.  If  we  can  get  this  going, 
and  the  newspapers  must  help  it  start,  as  a  news 
story,  we  will  have  plenty  of  publicity  without  their 
editorial  support  if  they  refuse  that  to  us.  We'll  see 
to  it  that  we  are  live  news  every  minute.  Then  they'll 
have  to  print  things  about  us  in  their  news  columns,-and 
the  solemn  old  johnnies  in  the  inside  rooms  can  de- 
nounce their  heads  off  in  leaded  brevier,  and  we'll  pros- 
per, so  long  as  we  can  get  by  the  local  room.  That  will 
be  my  job." 

Hunkins  continued  silent.  There  was  some  dis- 
cussion in  the  newspapers  by  the  political  reporters,  and 
one  day  Steve  printed  a  list  of  names  of  those  "prom- 
inently mentioned"  for  the  nominations.  Perkins's 
name  was  not  in  this  list,  and  that  impressed  me.  So 
I  sought  Steve  and  asked  him :  "Has  Hunkins  changed 
his  mind?" 

"Not  that  I  know  of;  why?" 

"I  see  you  didn't  put  Perkins  in  the  list  of  those 
prominently  mentioned  you  printed  this  morning." 

Steve  laughed.  "Listen  at  him,"  he  said.  "It's  old, 
but  it's  sure  fire.  The  dear  public  always  falls  for  it." 


WE  GET  UNDER  WAY  265 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"The  prominently-mentioned  wheeze.  Every  time 
there  is  a  vacancy  in  an  office  of  importance,  or  can- 
didates are  discussed,  we  run  a  few  of  those.  They 
come  out  of  Washington  whenever  there  is  a  big  office 
to  be  filled.  'Among  those  prominently  mentioned  for 

the  place  are ,'  and  then  follows  a  list  of  names. 

And  next  day  you  hear  the  man  in  the  street-car  say: 
'I  see  so-and-so  may  get  a  Cabinet  place.  He's  promi- 
nently mentioned  for  it.'  Sure  he  is — prominently  men- 
tioned by  the  prominent  mentioner  who  sits  down  at  his 
typewriter  to  write  a  dispatch  about  the  situation,  put- 
ting in  every  name,  to  make  it  good,  he  can  think  of 
that  comes  within  the  remotest  range  of  possibility  of 
official  designation,  and  shoves  the  bunch  on  the  wire 
for  the  home  office.  A  lot  of  men  around  Washington 
and  the  state  capitals  exist  for  that  occasional  notice. 
They  never  get  a  job,  and  do  not  expect  one,  but  they 
feel  still  in  it,  in  a  way,  if  they  can  make  the  prominent- 
ly-mentioned lists." 

"Then  that  list  isn't  official?"  I  said. 

"Certainly  it  is — official  by  Steve  Fox,  who  knows  a 
good  deal  about  it.  I  printed  it  to  keep  the  interest 
stirred." 

"Is  Perkins  still  a  candidate?" 

"So  far  as  I  know  he  is.  Hunkins  isn't  likely  to 
shift.  He's  open-minded  enough  until  he  gets  his  de- 
cision. Then  he  sticks." 

Meantime,  Steve  completed  his  investigations  into 
the  record  of  Perkins.  He  found  his  specialty  is  to 
organize  new  public  utility  companies,  secure  franchises 
for  them  on  the  ground  that  the  competition  will  be  of 


266  HUNKINS 

benefit  to  the  public,  get  those  franchises  granted  by 
collusion  with  the  officials,  and  then  force  the  companies 
in  operation  to  buy  out  the  new  companies,  and  divide 
the  swag,  keeping  most  of  it  for  himself. 

He  did  this  with  a  cross-town  surface-car  franchise, 
a  gas-and-electric  franchise,  a  new  telephone  company, 
and  several  times  with  street  rights  that  already  going 
concerns  needed.  Each  time  he  had  a  plausible  reason 
for  selling  out,  but  each  time  he  literally  black-mailed 
the  operating  companies  into  buying. 

"There  are  five  of  these  deals  that  I  have  uncov- 
ered," said  Steve,  "and  while  I  cannot  prove  that  Per- 
kins bribed  the  officials  for  the  franchises  I  know  he 
did.  We'll  have  to  recite  the  facts,  which  are  bad 
enough,  make  the  charge  that  he  did,  and  take  a  chance. 
Furthermore,  I  have  discovered  that  Perkins  is  a  stock- 
holder in  that  Arizona  mine  that  Pendergrast  exploited, 
for  I  managed  to  get  the  minutes  of  an  annual  com- 
pany meeting  he  attended.  Oddly  enough,  in  the  hurry 
of  Pendergrast's  get-away  he  neglected  to  burn  those 
minutes,  and  that  kind  providence  that  watches  over 
good  little  boy  reporters  like  myself  put  me  in  the 
way  of  them. 

"Perkins  always  has  lived,  publicly,  in  an  atmosphere 
of  complete  sanctity.  He  is  a  most  conspicuous  church 
member,  gets  himself  on  the  committees  of  all  civic 
uplift  movements,  contributes  to  all  clean-up  crusades, 
and  his  private  life  is  impeccable.  Nothing  moral  can 
start  in  this  city  without  Perkins  in  it,  and,  if  possible, 
at  the  head  of  it.  Also,  as  you  know,  he  runs  a  big 
store,  and  while  he  is  meanness  incarnate  in  his  dealings 
with  his  employees  he  is  a  good  merchant,  and  his  store 


WE  GET  UNDER  WAY  267 

is  popular.  He  screens  his  dealings  with  his  employees 
by  operating  a  bunk  profit-sharing  plan  to  which,  of 
course,  the  newspapers  refer  with  great  admiration,  he 
being  a  large  advertiser.  He  is  a  glutton  for  publicity, 
and  his  greatest  delight  is  to  see  his  name  in  the  papers 
as  'the  public-spirited,'  or  'our  leading  citizen,'  or  in 
some  similar  way." 

"How  did  you  get  all  this?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  I  dug  around,  and  found  there  are  men  in  the 
city  who  know  all  about  him.  They  helped  me  out, 
not  knowing  why,  but  on  general  principles  that  any- 
thing to  crimp  Perkins  is  good  municipal  spirit.  One 
of  these  men  is  Andrew  J.  Mayfield.  Know  him?" 

"Indeed  I  do,"  I  said.  "He's  a  director  in  Dad's 
company,  and  his  brother,  Arthur,  was  in  my  regiment, 
a  first  lieutenant  in  H  Company.  He  was  killed  in  the 
Argonne.  I've  known  Mr.  Mayfield  since  I  was  a  little 
boy." 

"Fine  business,"  said  Steve.  "He's  the  man  to  head 
your  campaign  committee.  He's  the  livest  wire  in  this 
city." 

We  went  over  Steve's  notes  carefully,  rejecting  some 
of  the  things  he  discovered  as  not  susceptible  of  proof, 
and  finally  decided  to  make  our  campaign  on  the  Pen- 
dergrast  attempted  loot  of  the  city  treasury  for  the 
exploitation  of  the  mine,  the  street-car  franchise,  the 
gas-and-electricity  franchise,  and  the  telephone  fran- 
chise, with  incidental  reference  to  the  other  similar 
operations.  Steve  briefed  his  information,  bringing 
out  salient  facts,  making  convincing  deductions,  and 
minimizing  the  importance  of  points  that  might  be  con- 
strued as  negativing  our  statements.  Steve  is  a  wonder 


268  HUNKINS 

at  that.  Being  a  good  reporter  he  knows  how  to  bring 
out  the  facts  that  help  his  story  and  bury  those  that 
do  not. 

When  that  was  finished,  and  adopted,  we  decided  to 
make  none  but  general  charges  at  first,  and  wait  for 
the  inevitable  Perkins  and  Hunkins  denials,  reserving 
the  proof  of  Perkins's  participation  in  the  city-treasury 
transaction  until  the  last,  for  a  crusher. 

"That's  the  way  Hunkins  played  it  with  the  I.  O. 
U.'s,"  I  said.  "We'll  give  him  a  dose  of  his  own 
medicine." 

"Correct,"  Dowd  replied,  "but  we  must  not  forget 
that  Hunkins  didn't  exhaust  his  box  of  tricks  with  that 
one." 

"Come  on,  you  Perkins!"  exclaimed  Steve,  when  all 
was  complete.  "We'll  give  you  a  run  for  the  money 
you  are  spending  on  this,  and  for  the  money  you  have 
already  grafted;  also,  some  publicity  of  a  sort  you 
won't  like." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

MR.    PERKINS    ENTERS 


1 


was  another  week  of  preparation.  I 
went  to  see  Mr.  Mayfield,  and  spent  an  eve- 
ning with  him  going  over  the  whole  matter, 
and  detailing  our  plans.  He  listened  with  in- 
terest, cross-questioned  me  minutely,  pointed  out  weak- 
nesses in  and  made  suggestions  for  strengthening  our 
proposed  campaign;  and  consented  to  serve. 

"Anything  I  can  do  to  keep  Perkins  from  being 
mayor  I  am  obligated  to  do  as  a  citizen  and  well  wisher 
for  this  city,"  he  said,  "and  more  than  that,  I  am 
glad  to  be  of  what  help  I  can  to  you,  personally, 
George.  Send  me  your  list  of  possible  committee  mem- 
bers, and  I'll  look  it  over,  and  add  or  subtract,  as  the 
case  may  be.  After  you  make  your  announcement  you 
may  say  that  I  have  undertaken  to  form  a  campaign 
committee,  and  I'll  put  in  a  month  or  so  at  it.  I  need 
some  excitement,  anyhow." 

There  was  more  newspaper  talk  about  candidates. 
Several  names  were  discussed.  Hunkins,  when  asked  by 
the  reporters  about  the  matter,  said  the  organization 
was  considering  the  claims  of  various  men,  put  forth  by 
their  friends,  and  had  arrived  at  no  conclusion.  "All 
the  organization  desires,"  he  said,  "is  to  support  the 

269 


270  HUNKINS 

best  man  who  may  be  proposed.  The  field  is  open." 
Spearle  had  no  opposition. 

Under  our  law  nominating  petitions  for  candidates 
desiring  to  contest  the  primaries  must  be  in  the  office 
of  the  Board  of  Elections  by  five  o'clock  on  the  after- 
noon of  the  fourth  Tuesday  before  the  date  of  the 
primary.  Usually,  there  is  some  jockeying  for  position 
on  the  ballot,  but  this  time  Spearle  had  the  advantage, 
and  we  thought  that  Hunkins  would  not  file  his  peti- 
tions until  Tuesday. 

On  the  Saturday  afternoon  previous  to  that  Tuesday, 
Steve  Fox  and  Dowd  sent  for  me  to  come  to  our  head- 
quarters* 

"It's  cinched,"  said  Dowd.  "Hunkins  put  in  his 
petitions  to-day,  and  Perkins  is  the  man  for  mayor." 

"How  do  you  know?"  I  asked. 

"Steve  found  it  out.  He  has  a  friend  in  the  Elec- 
tions Board.  It  isn't  supposed  to  be  known  until  Tues- 
day." 

"Shall  you  print  it?"  I  asked  Steve. 

"You  bet  I  will.  There's  no  seal  on  the  story  so 
far  as  I  am  concerned.  And  I  saw  the  Perkins  peti- 
tion." 

"But  he  isn't  required  to  file  until  Tuesday  afternoon 
at  five  o'clock.  Perhaps  there  is  a  catch  in  it." 

"Not  a  catch,"  asserted  Steve.  "Anyhow,  I'm  going 
to  print  it,  and  I'll  get  a  talk  with  Perkins  to-night." 

"Don't  be  in  too  much  of  a  hurry  about  that,"  I 
cautioned.  "If  you  go  to  Perkins  early  he  may  get  in 
touch  with  Hunkins,  or  something,  and  spoil  it." 

"How  can  he  spoil  it?"  asked  Steve.  "It's  all  set, 
I  tell  you,  and,  besides,  I  shan't  go  to  Perkins  until 


MR.  PERKINS  ENTERS  271 

late,  just  before  closing  time.  I'll  hold  open  a  page 
for  it,  and  slam  it  through.  Then  if  Hunkins  doesn't 
like  it  he  can  do  the  other  thing.  Besides,  that  will 
give  us  a  chance  to  make  a  play  on  Monday,  and  get  a 
good  lot  of  publicity  for  our  petition  when  it  does 
go  in." 

"I  wonder  why  Hunkins  filed  so  early?"  I  asked 
Dowd.  "I  can't  understand  it." 

"Neither  can  I,"  said  Dowd.  "It  looks  as  if  he  is 
playing  into  our  hands  a  little,  but  he  isn't.  Probably, 
he  is  considering  us  with  the  contempt  he  thinks  we  de- 
serve. Anyhow,  it's  a  sporting  chance,  and  we'll  take 
it." 

Steve  went  to  see  Perkins  at  eleven  o'clock  that  night, 
rousing  that  prospective  candidate  from  his  bed  to  ask 
him  about  his  candidacy.  Dowd  and  I  waited  at  the 
offices  until  the  paper  had  gone  to  press,  which  was 
at  midnight,  as  the  Sunday  edition  closes  earlier  than 
the  week-day  does.  Steve  came  in  grinning. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "Perkins  was  glad  to  see  me.  He 
never  overlooks  a  chance  to  grab  a  little  free  space 
when  he  can  get  it.  He  talked  his  head  off.  He's 
going  to  be  a  model  mayor,  and  run  things  on  strictly 
business  principles.  He  spilled  a  dozen  of  the  usual 
candidatorial  bromides  like  doing  justice  though  the 
heavens  fall,  and  so  on.  However,  he  will  take  no 
hasty  steps,  and  will  be  guided  in  all  he  does  if  elected 
by  the  prudent  counsel  of  our  leading  citizens.  He 
does  not  feel  that  a  city  election  should  be  other  than 
local,  and  has  no  comment  to  make  on  current  national 
topics,  although  he  has  always  been  a  reliable  party 
man.  He  deplores  recent  events  in  the  city  adminis- 


272  HUNKINS 

tration,  and  promises  to  make  a  clean  sweep  of  all 
offenders.  It's  a  talk  that  sounds  well  and  means  noth- 
ing in  particular.  You'd  think  that  he  has  been  run- 
ning for  office  all  his  life. 

"He  seems  to  think  he's  doing  a  favor  to  Hunkins 
instead  of  the  other  way  around,  and  he's  all  jazzed  up 
over  the  prospect.  He  said  he  has  been  deterred  from 
talking  by  Mr.  Hunkins  who  feels  that  a  short,  sharp 
campaign  will  be  best,  and  feels  himself  already  right 
over  in  the  mayor's  office.  He  says  he  will  have  no  dif- 
ficulty in  defeating  Spearle,  especially  since  the  disclo- 
sures about  the  defalcation  in  the  city  treasury,  and  the 
connivance  therein  of  city  officials,  not  to  mention  other 
^evidences  of  misgovernment  by  the  incumbents  of  the 
city  offices ;  and  he  is  highly  elated.  Apparently  Hun- 
kins  has  said  nothing  to  him  about  you,  for  he  did  not 
mention  your  name  and  I  gave  him  a  chance  by  asking 
him  if  he  expects  any  opposition  from  his  own  party. 
He  doesn't  expect  any.  Hunkins  is  to  see  to  that  and 
Hunkins  apparently  doesn't  consider  you  as  opposition, 
or  thinks  you  were  bluffing.  I'll  bet  Perkins  is  sitting 
up  right  now  to  get  a  News  and  read  what  I  say  of 
him." 

"What  do  you  say?"  I  asked. 

"Nothing  but  what  I  have  told  you.  I  have  smeared 
the  story  all  over  the  first  page,  with  a  picture  of  Per- 
kins, and  his  interview  displayed,  nailing  Hunkins  into 
it,  and  all  that.  There  is  no  editorial  comment.  It's 
a  straight  news  story,  and,  believe  me,  it  will  start 
something,  too." 

"It  will,"  said  Dowd,  "and  the  first  thing  it  will 
Start  will  be  an  announcement  by  us,  on,  Monday  morn- 


r 

MR.  PERKINS  ENTERS  273 

ing,  that  Captain  George  Talbot  will  be  an  independent 
candidate  in  the  primary,  against  Perkins,  which  will 
be  coupled  with  an  interview  with  Captain  Talbot  stat- 
ing his  reasons  for  taking  this  step,  and  outlining  his 
platform.  That  interview,  if  I  mistake  not,  Mr.  Fox, 
is  ready  at  the  present  moment." 

"It  is,"  grinned  Steve,  ''and  it's  a  whale.  I  know, 
for  I  wrote  it  myself." 

The  many  thousand  Sunday  subscribers  of  the  News 
held  their  various  breakfast  table  caucuses  on  Steve's 
story  about  Perkins  and  his  candidacy  for  mayor,  and 
went  their  various  ways.  There  was  positively  no  life 
at  all  at  the  club,  where  I  dropped  in  at  noon,  to  seek 
comment,  save  what  flickers  in  Peter  McWhirter,  who 
was  the  sole  occupant  of  the  smoke-room,  huddled  in 
his  big  chair.  Peter  hasn't  read  a  newspaper  in  years, 
and  I  drew  a  blank  there.  So  I  drove  out  to  the  Coun- 
try Club  after  luncheon.  The  first  person  I  met  was 
Jacob  T.  Hull,  the  president  of  the  Third  National 
Bank. 

"Good  afternoon,  George,"  he  greeted  me.  "I  am 
glad  to  see  you  looking  so  well.  Excellent  news  in  the 
paper  this  morning.  I  note  our  fellow  director,  Mr. 
Perkins,  is  to  be  the  candidate  for  mayor.  A  most 
admirable  choice.  Mr.  Perkins  combines  in  himself 
high  ideals  and  great  business  acumen.  The  Third 
National  must  use  every  effort  to  assist  him,  so  far  as 
we  may  legitimately,  of  course.  I  trust  you  approve." 

"Do  you  think  Mr.  Perkins  a  good  man  to  be  mayor 
of  this  city?"  I  asked  him. 

"Oh,  how  can  you  ask?     None  better,  positively 


274  HUNKINS 

none  better — a  most  exemplary  choice  by  the  organiza- 
tion. Mr.  Hunkins  is  a  public-spirited  leader." 

"That's  what  you  said  about  Pendergrast  a  while 
ago." 

"Why,  George,  surely  you  misinterpreted  my  re- 
mark. I  merely  meant  in  reference  to  our  affairs — the 
bank's,  you  know;  and  with  Mr.  Perkins  as  mayor  we 
may  be  sure  of  the  friendship  of  Mr.  Hunkins,  also. 
It's  business,  you  know." 

Hull  sickened  me.  "Excuse  me,"  I  said,  "I  want  to 
see  Mr.  Mayfield  for  a  moment." 

Mayfield  had  seen  the  announcement.  "Now,  then," 
he  asked.  "What's  next?" 

"I  am  coming  out  in  the  morning,  denouncing  the 
nomination  of  Perkins  and  offering  myself  as  a  can- 
didate," I  said.  "Everything  is  arranged." 

"You  are  not  laying  all  your  cards  on  the  table  at 
once,  are  you?" 

"No,  sir;  my  statements  are  most  general  as  to  facts 
but  rather  pointed  as  to  application." 

"That's  all  right.  I  shall  have  something  to  say 
on  Tuesday  morning  myself.  Perhaps  the  afternoon 
papers  on  Monday  would  be  better." 

"I  think  so,"  I  told  him.  "We  can  get  that  pub- 
licity while  the  thing  is  fresh,  and  follow  it  with  a 
broadside  on  Tuesday." 

"Correct,"  he  said.  "Now  I  am  going  to  practice  a 
few  putts  and  think  out  what  I  want  to  say." 

The  usual  crowd  of  golfers,  nineteenth-hole  men, 
sitters,  and  tired  business  men  seeking  Sunday  solace, 
was  in  the  big  lounge  of  the  club.  "Why,  there's  the 
boy  politician!"  shouted  Fred  Daskin,  a»  I  came  in. 


MR.  PERKINS  ENTERS  275 

"What's  all  this  in  the  paper  this  morning  about  old 
Perkins  being  a  candidate  for  mayor?  We  surely 
expected  that  you  would  run.  Or  are  you  content  to 
be  merely  an  alderman?  Fie  on  you,  Georgie,  we 
thought  better  things  of  you  than  that!  I  had  it  all 
planned  to  go  on  the  soap-box  for  you,  and  make  cart- 
tail  orations  all  over  the  city.  'Fellow-citizens,  I  come 
to  request  your  suffrages  for  that  sterling  young  states- 
man  '  and  that  sort  of  thing.  What's  the  matter? 

Won't  the  charming  Hunkins  let  you  play  in  the  big 
game?" 

"Doesn't  seem  so,  does  it?"  I  replied,  holding  my 
temper,  and  walked  away. 

I  talked  with  a  number  of  the  men  at  the  club  that 
Sunday.  Opinion  was  divided.  I  found  that  men  like 
Mr.  Hull  thought  Perkins  a  good  choice,  while  the 
younger  business  and  professional  men  were  dubious. 
They  had  heard  hints  of  shady  dealings  on  his  part. 
Mr.  Mayfield  was  quite  open  in  his  denunciation  when 
he  came  back  from  his  putting,  and  several  others  coin- 
cided with  his  views.  The  general  opinion  among  the 
dissenters  was  that  it  didn't  seem  right,  but,  after  go- 
ing so  far,  nobody  even  suggested  a  fight.  "It's  poli- 
tics," they  said.  "Can't  expect  anything  else  from 
these  bosses.  Suppose  we'll  have  to  stand  for  it." 

"Is  it  necessary  to  stand  for  it?"  I  asked. 

"Well,  what  in  thunder  are  we  going  to  do?  You 
can't  expect  us  to  neglect  business  for  politics  can  you?" 

"But,"  I  protested,  "this  time,  it  seems  to  me  poli- 
tics is  your  business." 

"Oh,  let  George  do  it!"  said  Furbish,  who  is  our 
biggest  contractor. 


276  HUNKINS 

"Meaning  me?"  I  asked. 

"Good  heavens,  no !"  Furbish  exclaimed,  as  if  as- 
tonished at  the  suggestion.  "The  George  of  the  news- 
paper comic  strips,  you  know." 


1 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THERE  IS  GREAT  TURMOIL 

first  two  pages  of  the  News  on  Monday 
morning  were  mainly  devoted  to  myself;  my 
picture,  mystatement,  myhistory,  mymotives, 
my  genealogy,  my  war  record,  my  exposure  of 
Miller  and  Pendergrast,  some  of  my  speeches  to  the 
soldiers,  my  plan  of  campaign,  my  ideas  on  city  govern- 
ment— Steve  certainly  made  a  splash.  And  the  city  rose 
to  it  with  a  whoop.  Not  so  much  was  publicly  known 
about  Talbot,  but  a  good  deal  about  Perkins  and  Hun- 
kins,  and  by  noon  they  were  talking  about  me  every- 
where. 

Steve  put  the  salient  points  of  my  statement  in  a 
heavily-bordered  box  on  the  first  page : 

"I  believe  that  this  city  deserves,  and  may  secure, 
a  better  government  than  it  has  had  and  has  now. 

"I  am  opposed  to  the  selection  of  candidates  by 
bosses  and  machines  whose  interests  are  political  and 
not  municipal. 

"I  am  not  in  favor  of  partisan  city  government,  with 
its  evils  of  perquisites  and  patronage,  but  demand  a 
clean,  efficient,  non-partisan  government. 

"The  city's  business  is  the  business  of  every  person 
resident  in  it,  and  not  the  business  of  the  politicians, 
and  must  not  be  continued  in  the  control  of  the  poli- 
ticians. 

277 


278  HUNKINS 

"The  condition  to  which  our  affairs  have  come  is 
plainly  evidenced  by  the  city  treasury  scandal,  which 
was  political  in  all  its  bearings. 

"The  selection  of  Ezra  T.  Perkins  as  a  candidate 
is  a  sure  indication  that  Boss  Hunkins  intends  to  con- 
trol the  city  as  Boss  Pendergrast  has  controlled  it  with 
Mayor  Spearle,  if  Perkins  is  elected. 

"I  declare  that  Ezra  T.  Perkins  is  unfitted  to  be 

•» 

mayor  because  of  his  associations  and  dealings  in  the 
past  with  the  gangs  that  have  looted  the  city. 

"I  assert  that  Ezra  T.  Perkins  had  knowledge  of 
the  taking  of  city  money  for  Pendergrast's  private  en- 
terprise, and,  in  all  probability,  shared  in  the  proceeds. 

"I  assert  that  Ezra  T.  Perkins,  in  the  past  fifteen 
years,  through  connivance  or  worse,  it  may  be,  with 
city  officials  has  used  the  city  machinery  to  further  his 
private  enterprises  and  increase  his  personal  wealth. 

"I  assert  that  he  has  been  all  things  to  all  bosses, 
using  whatever  party  is  in  power  corruptly  to  advance 
his  own  schemes  and  to  the  loss  of  the  city. 

"I  assert  that  Ezra  T.  Perkins  is  unfit  to  be  mayor 
of  this  city,  for  these  reasons  and  others  that  will  be 
made  known,  and  offer  myself  as  a  candidate  for  mayor 
at  the  coming  primary  election  to  defeat  him,  pledging 
myself  in  advance,  if  chosen  and  elected,  to  conduct 
the  affairs  of  this  city  honestly,  economically,  and  in 
a  non-partisan,  efficient  and  business-like  manner,  and 
to  have  no  dealings  with  party  bosses  whatsoever. 

"If  the  voters  of  this  city  choose  Ezra  T.  Perkins 
at  the  coming  primary,  on  the  one  side,  or  Mayor 
Spearle,  on  the  other,  there  will  be  no  relief  for  the 


THERE  IS  GREAT  TURMOIL         279 

election  of  either  means  continued  control  by  a  cor- 
rupt boss. 

"As  a  soldier  I  ask  for  the  support  of  my  comrades 
in  the  Army,  and  of  all  who  saw  service  in  the  war." 

The  editorial  in  the  News  was  non-committal.  It 
said  it  is  a  cheering  sign  of  the  times  that  young  men 
are  taking  an  interest  in  politics;  called  the  charges 
against  Perkins  astounding,  and  gravely  demanded 
their  proof  or  withdrawal;  predicted  a  lively  campaign 
and  pussyfooted  in  that  manner  for  nearly  a  column* 
There  was  cold  comfort  in  the  News  editorial.  The 
afternoon  papers  had  extras  on  the  streets  at  ten 
o'clock,  playing  up  my  charges  and  printing  a  wild 
clamor  of  denial  from  Perkins,  who  denounced  me 
as  an  unmitigated  liar,  and  threatened  my  arrest  for 
criminal  libel.  There  was  no  statement  from  Hunkins 
in  the  early  editions.  Editorially,  the  Dispatch  re- 
moved my  pelt  and  hung  it  on  a  fence.  It  flayed  me 
alive.  The  Times  was  calm,  judicial,  and  asked  for  my 
proofs.  The  Socialist  Journal  rejoiced  in  the  rumpus, 
said  I  represent  identically  the  same  class  that  Perkins 
represents,  and  moralized  over  the  entire  affair  as 
showing  that  there  must  be  a  socialistic  government  im- 
mediately. It  closed  by  calling  attention  to  the  fact 
that  Eric  Gustafson  will  be  a  candidate  in  the  primary, 
also  as  a  Socialist,  and  that  his  selection  will  mean  a 
proper  government.  The  headline  on  the  Journal's 
article  was  "A  Plague  on  Both  Your  Houses." 

Dowd  had  prepared  our  petition,  quietly  securing 
the  required  minimum  of  three  hundred  names,  as 
designated  by  our  charter,  and  had  it  ready  for  filing. 
At  eight  o'clock  Monday  morning  he  sent  out  twenty 


280  HUNKINS 

men,  experienced  in  that  work,  with  blank  petitions, 
instructed  to  secure  as  many  additional  signatures  as 
possible.  They  were  told  to  go  to  stores,  banks,  fac- 
tories and  public  meeting  places,  and  to  turn  in  their 
list  at  six  o'clock  that  night,  in  order  that  there  might 
be  proper  verification  before  five  o'clock  on  Tuesday 
afternoon. 

The  sensation  of  the  noon  editions  of  the  afternoon 
papers  was  the  statement  by  Andrew  T.  Mayfield, 
which  they  printed  in  big,  black  type,  inasmuch  as 
Mr.  Mayfield  wasted  no  language  in  preambles  or 
preliminaries,  but  came  straight  to  the  point,  like  the 
great  business  man  he  is.  That  statement  read: 

"I  am  in  complete  sympathy  with  the  objects  of  Cap- 
tain George  Talbot  in  his  statement  of  this  morning 
wherein  he  announces  his  candidacy  for  mayor  for  the 
express  purpose  of  defeating  Ezra  T.  Perkins,  who  is 
to  be  the  candidate  of  Boss  Hunkins  in  the  coming 
primary.  As  a  citizen  and  taxpayer  of  this  city  I  con- 
sider a  complete  overthrow  of  the  boss  system  impera- 
tive for  our  well-being,  good  government  and  pros- 
perity. Our  city  government  should  be  non-partisan, 
and  not  political.  Mismanagement,  waste,  graft,  are 
all  concomitants  of  such  city  government  as  ours  is, 
and  has  been,  as  our  citizens  have  been  made  painfully 
aware  many  times.  I  hold  that  the  candidacy  of  Cap- 
tain George  Talbot,  who  is  a  young  man  of  ability, 
principle,  excellent  repute,  integrity,  and  high  ideals, 
offers  to  the  people  of  this  city  an  opportunity  to  rid 
themselves  of  this  evil  of  boss  and  organization  con- 
trol of  their  municipal  affairs,  and  I  have  consented  to 
act  as  chairman  of  Captain  Talbot's  campaign  com- 


THERE  IS  GREAT  TURMOIL         281 

mittee.  As  such,  I  call  on  all  citizens  who  hold  honest 
government  in  higher  esteem  than  party  politics  to  join 
with  me  in  furthering  his  choice  in  the  primary,  and 
in  bringing  about  his  election." 

That  afternoon  Mr.  Mayfield  came  down  to  the 
Power  Building  offices,  into  which  we  moved  in  the 
morning,  hung  up  his  hat  and  coat,  and  said:  "Well, 
I've  left  my  manager  in  charge,  and  here  I  am,  en- 
listed for  the  duration.  Where  shall  I  sit?" 

He  took  a  desk  in  an  inside  room  and  in  ten  minutes 
was  hard  at  work  on  his  campaign  committee  lists. 
Presently  Steve  Fox  came  in,  in  high  spirits.  "Oh, 
boy!"  he  said,  "but  that  depth  charge  we  dropped  on 
Brother  Perkins  at  noon  in  the  shape  of  Mr.  Mayfield's 
announcement  that  he  will  head  your  campaign  com- 
mittee created  great  havoc.  The  old  man  ran  up  to 
Martin  Street  to  see  Hunkins  so  fast  you  couldn't 
see  him  for  the  dust.  Hunkins  evidently  stiffened  him 
up,  for  he's  making  another  yell  in  the  five-o'clock  edi- 
tions, defying  Mayfield,  defying  you,  defying  every- 
body who  doesn't  consider  him  the  paragon  of  para- 
gons, and  shouting  that  he  will  have  you  in  jail  by  noon 
to-morrow,  and  Mayfield,  too,  if  he  gets  gay." 

"That  might  not  be  a  bad  idea,"  said  Dowd. 

"What?"  I  asked.  "Putting  me  in  jail?  I  can't 
see  it." 

"Probably  not,  but  I  can.  You  won't  have  to  stay 
there,  you  know.  Hunkins  may  control  the  judges  to 
some  extent,  but  not  enough  to  make  any  of  them  re- 
fuse you  bail,  and  then  you  can  come  out  and  be  a 
martyr  as  well  as  a  crusader." 

"Fine !"  shouted  Steve.     "I'll  interview  you  through 


282  HUNKINS 

your  prison  bars,  and  we'll  have  the  artist  make  a 
classy  picture  of  you  passionately  and  fearlessly  reiter- 
ating your  charges  although  you  are  in  a  cell.  Great 
caption  for  it:  'Stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make  nor 
iron  bars  a  cage.'  You  know!  Great  I  We'll  grab 
space  by  the  mile  on  that." 

"But  where  do  I  get  off?"  I  protested.  "I'm  the 
one  who  will  be  in  jail." 

"Certainly,"  said  Dowd.  "Why  not?  You  are 
the  male  Joan  of  Arc  of  this  movement,  aren't  you? 
And  you  called  Brother  Perkins  out  of  his  highly- 
respected  name,  didn't  you?" 

"Yes,  but " 

"No  buts  about  it.  If  the  little  red  ball  stops  at 
jail  in  this  whirl  it's  jail  for  yours,  briefly." 

"All  right,"  I  said.  "I'm  game,  and  to  make  it 
good  we'll  come  back  at  Perkins  in  the  morning;  but 
I'll  bet  it  won't  happen." 

"It  might,"  said  Dowd.  "You  never  can  tell,  and 
you'll  be  wise  to  get  yourself  a  nice,  shiny  martyr's 
halo.  You  may  need  it." 

Steve  telephoned  for  the  Globe  political  man,  Char- 
ley Brinker;  and  I  gave  them  an  interview  in  which  I 
reiterated  what  I  said  about  Perkins  in  my  announce- 
ment. I  wanted  to  go  further,  but  Dowd  and  May- 
field  would  not  allow  it.  By  six  o'clock  we  were  re- 
ceiving acceptances  from  men  and  women  we  had  asked 
to  join  the  committee,  and  several  small  subscriptions 
to  the  campaign  fund  had  come  in.  The  men  with 
the  petitions  secured  four  hundred  additional  names. 

"It's  all  right,"   said  Dowd,  as  we  went  out  for 


THERE  IS  GREAT  TURMOIL         283 

some  food  about  nine  o'clock,  "it's  started  with  a 
whoop.  Now,  our  job  is  to  keep  it  whooping." 

Dad  was  waiting  for  me  when  I  got  home  at  mid- 
night. The  light  of  battle  was  in  his  eyes.  "What's 
the  news?"  he  asked. 

"Everything  is  going  fine.  We're  under  way  al- 
ready. Fifteen  or  twenty  men  and  women  we  want 
have  already  consented  to  serve  on  the  campaign  com- 
mittee, and  a  few  contributions  have  been  sent  in;  and 
it  is  only  the  first  day.  Perkins  is  howling  his  head 
off  about  arresting  me  for  criminal  libel,  but  that 
doesn't  worry  us  any.  Mr.  Mayfield  is  on  the  job. 
Have  you  heard  anything?" 

"Perkins  came  to  see  me  this  afternoon,"  said  Dad. 

"He  did?    What  did  he  want?" 

"He  expressed  astonishment,  grief,  horror,  indigna- 
tion and  shocked  surprise  that  I  would  allow  a  son  of 
mine  to  engage  in  such  a  diabolical  conspiracy  against 
an  old  friend,  a  respected  and  honored  citizen,  and 
pillar  of  society  and  the  church.  He  begged  me  to 
order  you  to  get  out,  and  promised  he  will  go  no 
further  with  his  plans  to  stick  you  in  jail  if  I  do,  and 
all  will  be  forgiven  as  a  boyish  prank." 

"What  did  you  say?" 

"I  said:  'Perkins,  you  have  a  wrong  conception  of 
my  relations  with  my  son.  There  isn't  any  question 
of  my  allowing  him  to  do  this.  He  is  a  man,  thirty 
years  old,  and  his  own  master,  not  a  little  kid  as 
you  consider  him.  Furthermore,  when  it  comes  to 
that,  if  he  is  such  a  weakling  that  I  can  allow  him,  or 
not  allow  him,  to  take  this  sort  of  a  step  I  have  no 


284  HUNKINS 

respect  and  no  further  use  for  him.  It's  his  own  en- 
terprise.' 

"Perkins  blinked  at  that,  and  asked  me :  'But  surely 
you  do  not  approve  of  this,  John  Talbot,  my  friend 
of  many  years?'  I  told  him:  'Perkins,  if  you'll  excuse 
me,  I'm  not  your  friend — an  acquaintance,  I  admit, 
but  no  friend,  and  I  do  approve  of  it.  I'm  behind  my 
son  to  the  last  ditch  and  the  last  dollar.' 

"He  was  astonished  and  grieved  and  shocked  at 
that,  too,  and  said  he  expected  better  things  of  me. 
Also,  he  said  he  will  have  no  mercy  on  either  of  us, 
and  disgrace  us  both,  to  say  nothing  of  making  you 
look  like  the  conceited  young  ass  he  says  you  are  in 
the  primary  by  beating  you  ten  to  one.  I  told  him  you 
will  lick  the  socks  off  him,  and  that  closed  the  conver- 


sation." 


"I  hope  I  will,"  I  said,  "but  it's  no  fool  of  a  job, 
for  Hunkins  has  a  strong  organization." 

"All  the  more  reason  for  you  to  do  it,  then,"  said 
Dad.  "Let  me  know  when  I  can  help." 

As  I  started  for  my  room  the  telephone  rang.  It 
was  Steve  Fox.  "Say,  George,"  he  said,  "Hunkins 
has  unbelted.  He's  given  out  the  first  long  interview 
in  his  history,  and  it  isn't  so  very  long  at  that." 

"What  does  he  say?" 

"Ever  hear  of  that  pleasing  Mongolian  custom  of 
skinning  a  culprit  about  a  square  foot  at  a  time?  Well, 
that  is  approximately  what  he  does  to  you.  I  thought 
I'd  tell  you.  Got  to  hustle  now  to  get  it  in  the  paper." 

"What?"  I  shouted,  "are  you  going  to  print  it?" 

"Sure  I'm  going  to  print  it." 


THERE  IS  GREAT  TURMOIL         285 

"But  you  and  the  News  are  friendly  to  me." 
"Just  so;  and  I,  also,  am  a  reporter  and  the  News 

is  a  newspaper.     Don't  lose  your  perspective,  George. 

Good-night  1" 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

HUNKINS    TALKS 

I    WENT  to  sleep  wondering  what  Hunkins  said, 
and  dreamed  queer  dreams  about  Hunkins  and 
myself  being  together  in  an  elevator  that  was  as- 
cending and  descending  ceaselessly,  while  Mike, 
my  Airedale  terrier,  acted  as  elevator  conductor;  and 
other  similar  fantasies.     In  the  morning  I  shouted  for 
the  News  as  soon  as  I  got  out  of  bed,  and  in  a  few  min- 
utes my  curiosity  as  to  what  Hunkins  said  was  entirely 
satisfied.     What  he  said  was  on  the  first  page,  with  a 
two-column  headline  over  it,  and  the  top  line  of  that 
two-column  head  seemed  as  big  and  black  to  me  as  the 
forty-foot  letters  in  the  sign  on  the  side  of  the  break- 
fast-food factory: 

"VEAL  OR  VICTORY?  ASKS  HUNKINS!" 

There  was  more  to  the  headline,  but  that  was  enough 
for  me  and  I  read  the  interview,  standing  in  my 
pajamas,  with  a  temperature  ranging  from  boiling  to 
the  point  of  complete  evaporation. 

"It  has  been  the  hope  of  the  organization  of  which 
I  am  a  part,"  he  said,  "that  the  coming  primary  might 
be  contested  without  personalities,  decently,  and  with 

286 


HUNKINS  TALKS  287 

due  respect  to  the  issues  and  policies  involved.  That 
hope  has  been  dissipated  by  the  impudent,  unwarranted 
and  absurd  injection  of  himself  into  the  contest  by 
Captain  George  Talbot,  now  a  political  beneficiary  and 
office-holder  by  grace  of  the  organization  which  he  so 
violently  and  untruthfully  assails. 

"It  so  happened  that  the  organization,  some  months 
ago,  selected  this  young  man  to  fill  a  vacancy  in  the 
Board  of  Aldermen  caused  by  the  death  of  Alderman 
Porter,  elected  him,  and  gave  him  that  minor  distinc- 
tion. Also,  in  the  course  of  events,  he  was  allowed 
to  make  certain  revelations  on  the  floor  of  the  alder- 
manic  chamber,  which  revelations  disclosed  a  fraud 
and  scandal  in  the  present  city  administration,  and 
made  him  a  figure  in  the  newspapers  for  a  few  days. 
Neither  of  these  episodes  were  of  Captain  Talbot's 
initiative,  nor  came  from  any  merit,  high  civic  virtue, 
investigations,  knowledge,  or  strength  on  his  part.  He 
vas  merely  the  adaptable  instrument  of  the  organiza- 
tion— the  messenger  boy,  so  to  speak. 

"A  long  practice  has  taught  me  that  in  no  pursuit 
of  man  is  ingratitude  to  be  encountered  so  frequently 
as  in  politics,  but  Captain  Talbot's  assumption,  at  this 
time,  transcends  any  of  my  former  experiences  of  that 
phase  of  human  nature.  Also,  it  has  been  my  lot,  in 
my  connection  with  the  politics  of  this  city,  to  watch 
the  development  and  decay  of  conceit,  swell-headed- 
ness,  egoism,  in  various  empty,  or  soon  emptied,  seekers 
for  office,  but  until  this  time  I  have  not  observed  such 
delusions  of  grandeur  based  on  so  insubstantial  a  foun- 
dation. 

"I  ask  the  voters  to  consider  this  candidacy  before 


288  HUNKINS 

laughing  it  into  the  oblivion  to  which  they  will  laugh  it. 
This  young  man  sets  himself  up  as  a  fit  person  to  be 
mayor  of  this  great  city,  and  inquiry  into  his  real 
qualifications  will  show  that  he  is  a  capable  dancing 
man,  and  had  somewhat  of  an  army  experience.  That 
is  all.  Moreover,  in  setting  himself  forth  he  asperses 
the  character  of  one  of  our  greatest  and  most  progres- 
sive business  men,  Mr.  Ezra  T.  Perkins,  and  seeks 
to  elevate  himself  to  office  by  calumny  of  a  man  wise 
and  experienced  in  municipal  affairs,  honored  and  re- 
spected by  his  fellow-citizens,  and  sterling  in  character 
and  reputation. 

"I  regret  that  the  little  public  prominence  to  which 
I,  perhaps,  was  a  party,  has  so  swollen  this  young 
man  in  his  own  esteem  that  he  has  taken  this  foolish 
step.  In  time,  it  may  be,  he  might  develop  into  a 
useful,  average,  plodding  alderman — no  more.  His 
assumption  of  capabilities  that  fit  him  to  govern  this 
city  is  more  than  absurd.  It  is  pitiable.  It  is  a  public 
exhibition  of  a  vealy  vanity  that  not  only  must  be 
mournful  to  his  friends,  but  is  calculated  to  make  all 
others  of  the  judicious  grieve. 

"I  trust,  for  his  own  sake,  and  for  the  sake  of  his 
honored  and  respected  family  name,  this  young  man 
will  reconsider  his  action,  withdraw  his  nominating  pe- 
tition, and  merge  himself  again  into  the  social  activities 
to  which  he  has,  for  the  greater  part  of  his  life,  devoted 
himself  so  assiduously,  where  he  shines,  no  doubt,  but 
which  are  no  part  of  the  education  that  fits  for  the 
important  office  of  mayor.  His  friends  should  advise 
him  thus.  His  inordinate  self-esteem  and  empty  vanity 
should  not  be  allowed  to  make  him  a  laughing  stock 


HUNKINS  TALKS  289 

of  the  voters  of  this  city.  It  will  be  real  charity  for 
them  to  dissuade  him. 

"Otherwise,  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  the 
voters  of  this  city  will  not  be  deceived  by  the  self- 
exalted  protestations  of  this  cockscomb  in  politics, 
either  in  believing  his  slanders  of  the  regular  candi- 
date of  our  organization,  Mr.  Ezra  T.  Perkins,  nor 
in  according  to  his  overweening  vanity  and  conceit 
any  recognition  save  that  of  derisive  laughter.  They 
will  not  exchange  political  victory  for  political  veal. 
Nor  have  I  the  least  fear  that  the  brave  men  who 
went  to  war  from  this  city  will  be  deluded  into  support 
of  him  merely  because  he  wore  a  uniform.  They  will 
demand  greater  certificate  of  merit  than  his  frantic 
claim  of  comradeship  with  them. 

"In  conclusion,  if  Captain  Talbot  continues  in  the 
race,  he  need  have  no  expectation  that  our  organiza- 
tion will  take  legal  action  against  him  for  his  slanders 
of  our  candidate  until  after  he  has  been  eliminated 
from  politics  for  all  time  at  the  primary.  His  palpable 
and  amateurish  attempt  to  make  a  martyr  of  himself 
will  fail.  After  the  primary,  steps  will  be  taken  lead- 
ing to  his  adequate  punishment,  both  as  a  lesson  to  him, 
and  as  a  warning  to  others  who  may  be  tempted  to 
translate  a  passing  publicity  of  newspaper  mention  into 
terms  of  a  real,  worthy  and  deserved  position.  If  he 
unwisely  continues  in  the  race,  our  organization  will 
pay  no  further  attention  to  him  except  to  utilize  him 
as  a  sure  incentive  for  laughter  when  in  need  of  diver- 
sion— except  to  consider  him  as  the  joke  that  he  is." 

I  had  little  appetite  for  breakfast.  My  experience 
in  politics  had  not  been  sufficient  until  that  time  to 


29o  HUNKINS 

enable  me  to  take  attacks  like  that  with  equanimity. 
My  first  impulse  was  to  rush  over  to  Martin  Street 
and  punch  Hunkins  in  the  jaw.  I've  learned  since 
that  always  is  the  first  impulse  of  those  unaccustomed 
to  the  amenities  of  political  publicity  and  warfare — 
to  retaliate  by  physical  violence.  I  soon  dismissed 
that  idea  from  my  mind.  Really,  after  I  had  calmed 
down,  and  thought  a  little,  I  couldn't  blame  Hunkins 
much.  He  must  defend  himself  and  his  candidate;  but 
I  did  resolve  to  go  to  the  last  gasp,  to  the  last  pulse- 
beat  to  win.  Hunkins  stirred  that  up  in  me,  if  it 
needed  stirring. 

Dowd  was  at  headquarters  when  I  arrived.  "Great 
stuff  by  Hunkins  this  morning,  isn't  it?"  he  asked. 

"Depends  on  how  you  look  at  it,"  I  replied. 

"Well,  how  do  you  look  at  it?" 

"As  a  well-phrased,  bitter,  stinging  personal  attack." 

"Is  that  all?  Man  alive,  it's  great  stuff  for  us,  I 
tell  you.  Don't  you  get  the  point  of  it  from  our  view?" 

"I'm  afraid  not." 

"Why,  look  here!"  exclaimed  Dowd,  waving  the 
paper  in  front  of  my  face.  "Look  at  that  headline! 
Look  at  almost  every  line  in  it — youth — youth — youth ! 
Dammit,  man,  can't  you  see  that  he  has  overplayed 
his  hand?  He's  trying  to  make  youth  an  absurdity,  a 
bar  to  office — he's  crying  down  youth.  He's  made  the 
mistake  that  most  middle-aged  men  do,  especially  suc- 
cessful middle-aged  men,  of  holding  any  age  but  their 
own  in  contempt,  of  deriding  youth  for  lack  of  experi- 
ence and  of  laughing  at  age  For  ineffectiveness.  He's 
stuck  up  there  so  long  with  his  Horace,  and  his  other 
musty  truck  of  by-gone  ages  that  he's  forgotten  he  ever 


HUNKINS  TALKS  291 

was  young  himself.  He's  solidified  the  young  men  of 
this  city  for  us,  and  the  young  women.  And  we'll  get 
our  share  of  the  middle-aged,  too.  Oh,  Bill  Hunkins — 
you  sure  slipped  a  cog  there!" 

Dowd  did  a  heavy-footed  clog  dance.  "It's  great, 
I  tell  you,"  he  shouted.  "Great— great — great!" 

I  began  to  catch  the  spirit  of  him.  After  all,  the 
gist  of  Hunkins'  attack  is  my  youth,  for  his  plaints 
about  political  ingratitude  amount  to  little.  "Shall 
I  make  any  reply?"  I  asked. 

"Not  yet,"  said  Dowd.  "Let  it  stand.  Let  it  sink 
into  them,  and  then,  when  you  get  in  front  of  young 
men,  go  to  it.  That's  the  place  to  score  with  it — before 
the  soldiers  and  the  young  men.  Do  you  suppose 
the  young  men  of  this  city,  or  any  other  city,  think 
that  the  only  persons  fit  for  office  are  ancient  pappy- 
guys  like  Perkins,  and  such?  Not  by  a  darned  sight! 
We'll  plaster  that  on  Brother  Hunkins  before  this 
fight  is  over,  and  make  him  wish  he'd  never  said  it." 

Things  began  to  hum  at  headquarters.  Mr.  May- 
field  brought  in  stenographers,  typewriters,  clerks  and 
various  other  helpers.  He  made  Miss  Crawford  treas- 
urer, and  in  a  few  days  had  written  and  sent  out  an 
appeal  for  funds  that  brought  in  a  good  many  con- 
tributions in  sums  from  a  hundred  dollars  down.  His 
committee  soon  filled.  It  was  interesting  to  see  how 
the  people  responded.  They  seemed  to  welcome  a 
chance,  that  is  certain  sorts  of  people  did,  to  take  a 
whack  at  the  bosses.  There  was  not  so  great  a  re- 
sponse from  the  business  men  as  we  expected,  but 
neither  Mayfield  nor  Dowd  were  disturbed  by  that. 
"We'll  stir  them  up  presently,"  they  said.  Steve  Fox 


292  HUNKINS 

took  a  leave  of  absence  and  opened  his  press  head- 
quarters. He  left  a  friendly  substitute  in  his  place 
in  the  News  office,  and  there  were  few  days  when  Steve 
didn't  have  a  good  showing  in  all  the  papers.  When 
there  wasn't  any  news  Steve  made  some. 

Dowd  busied  himself,  principally,  over  the  arrange- 
ments for  the  soldiers'  mass  meeting  to  ratify  my 
candidacy.  I  spoke  at  a  number  of  ward  meetings  of 
soldiers,  and  others,  and  was  well  received.  The  news- 
papers printed  brief  reports  of  these  speeches,  the 
News  and  Times  being  fair  but  no  more.  The  Globe 
and  Dispatch  adopted  a  policy  of  ridicule,  and  the 
News  and  Times  took  an  occasional  humorous  fling  at 
me,  also.  They  are  organization  papers  in  a  way,  and 
strained  a  point  to  be  even  tolerant  of  me.  The 
Journal  howled  with  glee  over  the  fight  between  "the 
old  aristocrat  and  the  young  aristocrat."  But  Steve 
held  a  good  grip  on  the  news  columns  of  all  the  papers, 
and  we  were  content. 

It  was  apparent  that  Perkins  had  abandoned  his 
intention  of  arresting  me  for  criminal  libel,  probably 
at  the  insistence  of  Hunkins,  whose  ideas  about  that 
were  set  forth  in  his  interview,  and  Steve  mourned 
because  he  couldn't  print  that  picture  of  me  telling  of 
my  ideals  and  exploiting  my  ideas  through  a  barred 
jail  door.  The  Hunkins  organization  enlarged  their 
permanent  headquarters  in  the  Allenby  Building,  and 
went  methodically  at  the  work  of  getting  most  votes 
for  Perkins  in  the  primary.  Hunkins  was  in  direct 
charge.  He  organized  a  campaign  advisory  committee, 
also,  and  secured  a  good  many  important  men  to  serve 
on  it.  His  press  bureau  referred  to  me  as  "the  two- 


HUNKINS  TALKS  293 

step  candidate"  and  so  on.  By  the  end  of  the  first  week 
of  the  four  allotted  to  the  primary  fight  it  was  inter- 
esting, even  exciting. 

It  was  Dowd's  intention  to  have  his  soldiers'  mass- 
meeting  on  the  Tuesday  following  the  filing  of  the 
petitions.  He  hired  the  biggest  hall  in  the  city,  engaged 
two  bands,  and  had  his  workers  in  all  the  wards  round- 
ing up  the  soldiers  and  getting  pledges  to  come.  He 
placarded  the  city  with  great  posters  announcing  the 
meeting,  and  told  me  to  prepare  to  key-note  the  whole 
campaign.  I  wrote  a  speech,  and  Steve  edited,  en- 
larged, condensed  and  otherwise  improved  it  until  it 
was  a  rather  forceful  effort.  Then  I  learned  it.  I  did 
not  include  any  of  our  proof  against  Perkins  in  it, 
but  repeated  my  general  allegations.  We  held  the 
proof  in  reserve. 

Meantime,  every  striker  in  the  city,  every  grafter, 
every  advertising  agent,  every  owner  of  a  programme, 
every  association  that  intends  to  give  a  dance,  every 
charitable  organization,  every  ministerial  faker  visited 
me,  and  asked  for  money  in  return  for  support.  I  was 
waylaid  and  besieged  by  them  at  my  house,  and  at 
the  office,  in  the  streets,  and  everywhere  I  appeared. 
One  night  three  men  came  to  the  house,  after  tele- 
phonic preliminaries  that  were  most  mysterious.  They 
claimed  to  be  Pendergrast  ward  leaders,  and  I  recog- 
nized one  of  them  as  a  man  named  McCarthy  who 
had  been  pointed  out  to  me  in  the  City  Hall  as  one 
of  the  most  active  Pendergrast  workers.  He  was 
spokesman  and  said:  "We're  done  with  Pendergrast, 
but  we  can't  afford  to  break  openly  with  his  crowd. 
What  we  do  must  be  under  cover.  If  you  will  ad- 


294  HUNKINS 

* 

vance  us  a  few  hundred  dollars  apiece  we  can  use 
the  money  to  great  advantage  in  our  wards  to  help 
you." 

"Do  you  mean  you  will  buy  votes  with  it?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  no,"  protested  McCarthy,  virtuously.  "Noth- 
ing like  that.  Even  if  we  wanted  to  do  that  the  law 
is  too  strict  nowadays.  What  we  mean  is  to  spend  the 
money  around  here  and  there  influencing  sentiment  for 
you,  and  showing  that  you  are  a  good  fellow.  Just 
making  a  fine  kindly  feeling  for  you,  and  passing  out 
a  little,  now  and  then,  to  fellows  who  run  clubs  and 
to  lodges  and  so  on — advertising  money,  you  know." 

I  made  it  very  clear  there  must  be  no  vote  buying, 
nor  anything  of  that  sort,  and  had  a  long  talk  with 
them.  They  had  detailed  plans  and  numerous  places 
of  expenditure.  It  seemed  to  me  a  good  stroke  of  prac- 
tical politics,  and  I  felt  quite  proud  of  myself  as  a 
politician  when  I  wrote  them  checks  on  my  own  bank 
account  for  five  hundred  dollars  each. 

They  said  they  would  much  prefer  cash,  but,  in  the 
circumstances,  would  take  the  checks  as  the  transaction 
must  be  entirely  between  us,  and  they  could  not  come 
to  headquarters  for  currency.  They  relied  on  me  to 
protect  them.  I  said  I  would. 

However,  that  did  not  mean  I  would  not  tell  Dowd, 
and  next  morning,  at  nine  o'clock,  which  is  the  hour 
Mr.  Mayfield  set  for  our  first  consultation  of  the  day, 
I  gave  Dowd  the  story  of  it,  setting  it  forth,  much 
pleased  with  myself,  as  an  excellent  political  maneuver, 
likely  to  bring  results,  in  my  opinion. 

"Who  are  they?"  asked  Dowd. 

"McCarthy,  Lamson  and  Olsen."' 


HUNKINS  TALKS  295 

Dowd  grabbed  for  his  watch.  "There's  still  time," 
he  said. 

"Time  for  what?" 

"For  you  to  chase  over  to  the  bank  and  stop  those 
checks.  Never  fall  for  a  touch  like  that  again  or 
I'll  put  a  body-guard  with  you." 

"What's  the  matter?"  I  asked,  alarmed  at  Dowd's 
abruptness. 

"Why,  I  know  those  men.  They  are  no  more  against 
Pendergrast  than  you  are  for  him.  They  are  pulling 
an  old  trick  on  you,  getting  money  from  you  to  use 
either  for  themselves,  or  to  get  Spearle  votes.  When 
old  Colonel  Archibald  ran  for  mayor  nine  or  ten  years 
ago  they  worked  him  for  several  thousand  dollars  that 
way,  and  boasted  of  it  afterwards.  I  know  about  it 
for  McCarthy  told  me  the  story,  and  he  got  some  of 
the  money.  It's  old  stuff.  They  wouldn't  dare  to 
come  in  here  with  it.  To  the  bank  for  yours." 

It  was  a  chastened  candidate  and  politician  who 
hustled  over  to  the  bank  and  stopped  the  checks. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

PREPARING  FOR  TROUBLE 

WHEN   I   returned    from  the  bank  Dowd 
gave  me  a  little  lecture  on  the  ways  of 
politicians  and  politics  as  demonstrated  in 
elections  like  this,  and  in  larger  fields,  too, 
he  said. 

"Don't  take  it  amiss,  George,"  he  began,  "if  we 
insist  that  you  shall  be  nothing  but  the  candidate  in  this 
campaign.  Leave  the  politics  and  the  handling  of 
the  politicians  to  us.  You  have  led  a  non-political 
life,  and  have  never  been  up  against  raw  men  except 
when  you  were  in  the  army,  and  that  is  different. 
There  isn't  as  much  guile  in  you  as  there  might  be, 
as  witnesses  this  check  transaction. 

"A  candidate  like  you  is  meat  for  these  old  timers 
unless  he  is  watched  and  tended  constantly.  The  Hun- 
kins  outfit  and  the  Pendergrast  outfit  know  every  angle 
of  the  game,  and  have  played  them  all.  Pendergrast's 
crowd  run  more  to  the  strong-arm  stuff  than  Hunkins 
does,  and  they  both  are  shrewd,  crafty  and  not  any 
too  scrupulous.  Personally,  I  prefer  to  fight  Hunkins, 
because  he  plays  squarer  than  Pendergrast,  but  he  is 
out  to  win.  You  must  not  forget  that.  Still,  he's  an 
engaging  sort  of  a  cuss,  with  a  sense  of  queer,  ironical 
humor.  Did  you  hear  how  he  beat  old  Eliphalet  R. 
Branscombe  for  mayor  about  ten  years  ago?" 

296 


PREPARING  FOR  TROUBLE  297 

"No,"  I  said,  "but  I  remember  Branscombe 
vaguely." 

"Branscombe  was  a  picturesque  old  chap,  who  had 
a  pot  of  money,  and  aside  from  the  personal  scenery 
he  affected,  was  a  public-spirited,  charitable  man,  but 
vain,  and  anxious  for  public  mention.  Those  traits 
made  it  easy  for  Pendergrast's  crowd  to  cajole  him 
into  taking  the  nomination  for  mayor,  not  so  much 
with  the  hope  of  electing  him  as  of  getting  liberal 
campaign  contributions  from  him.  Hunklns  thought 
Branscombe  a  joke  at  first,  but  it  developed  that  the 
old  man  had  a  good  deal  of  strength  and  was  likely 
to  be  elected.  Wherefore,  Hunkins  set  about  to  beat 
him,  and  he  did  beat  him  by  a  dodge. 

"Branscombe  had  a  big,  white  moustache,  an  im- 
posing and  carefully  conserved  imperial,  and  long 
white  hair.  His  hat  always  was  a  black,  wide-brimmed 
slouch  he  had  especially  made,  carefully  adjusted  at 
a  rather  saucy  tilt,  and  sweepingly  removed  when  he 
made  a  salutation.  He  wore  flowing  ties,  low-cut 
vests,  with  fine,  white  frilly  shirts,  and  a  long  frock 
coat,  and  carried  a  gold-headed  cane.  He  was  quite 
a  sight  when  he  made  his  parade  on  Main  Street  in 
the  afternoons. 

"About  a  week  before  the  campaign  ended  Hunkins 
imported  a  man,  an  actor,  I  think,  who  had  the  mak- 
ings of  a  Branscombe  resemblance.  He  listened  to  a 
speech  by  Branscombe,  and  caught  something  of  his 
mannerisms,  and  intonations.  Where  Nature  failed  in 
the  resemblance  with  the  actor,  Art  stepped  in  and 
remedied  the  deficiency,  and  they  made  him  up  with 
the  long  white  hair,  moustache,  imperial,  the  tie,  the 


298  HUNKINS 

coat,  the  cane,  the  shirt  and  all  the  rest  of  it  until  he 
was  a  most  deceptive  counterfeit  Branscombe. 

"Then  Hunkins  started  him  out.  He  went  into  the 
wards  where  Pendergrast  gets  most  votes,  and  visited 
the  saloons.  If  he  found  a  considerable  number  of 
men  in  one,  as  he  usually  did  because  this  was  the 
last  week  before  election,  he  introduced  himself  as  Mr. 
Branscombe,  the  candidate  for  mayor,  somewhat  like 
this: 

"  'My  friends,  and  I  hold  you  all  to  be  my  friends, 
I  am  your  candidate  for  mayor  and  I  come  here  to- 
night to  make  the  acquaintance  of  you  men,  whom 
I  consider  the  bone  and  sinew  of  the  nation,  the  very 
foundation  and  rock  bottom  of  our  government.  I 
come  alone  to  meet  you,  greet  you,  mingle  with  you, 
clasp  your  hands,  because  I  want  to  know  you,  and 
want  you  to  know  me.  I  am  one  of  you.  I  delight 
in  your  manly,  virile  companionship;'  and  so  on,  fol- 
lowing with  a  little  speech  on  the  issues  of  the  cam- 
paign and  closing  with  an  earnest  solicitation  for  their 
votes,  because  of  the  friendship  established  by  this 
close  and  comradely  contact.  Then  he  shook  hands 
all  around,  walked  over  to  the  bar  and  said  to  the 
bartender:  'My  good  fellow,  have  you  any  superfine 
rye  whiskey?'  He  made  considerable  fuss  over  get- 
ting the  right  brand,  while  his  newly-found  friends 
stood  around  thirstily  waiting  for  the :  'Come  on,  boys, 
and  have  a  drink  with  me/ 

"That  invitation  never  came.  After  he  had  secured 
a  brand  he  liked  he  ostentatiously  poured  himself  a 
drink,  turned  to  the  crowd,  raised  his  glass,  said :  'To 
your  very  good  health,'  drank  his  drink,  threw  fifteen 


PREPARING  FOR  TROUBLE  299 

cents  on  the  bar,  expressed  the  further  hope  they  all 
would  vote  for  him,  bade  them  an  elaborate  good- 
night and  walked  out.  Just  imagine  what  those  men 
said  after  he  left  without  asking  them  if  they  had 
mouths  on  them.  Of  course,  Pendergrast  found  out 
about  it,  ultimately,  but  they  worked  it  often  enough 
successfully  to  turn  a  sufficient  number  of  votes  in  close 
wards  to  squeeze  the  Hunkins  man  in.  That's  just  a 
sample  of  one  of  Hunkins'  tricks.  He  is  full  of  them. 
And  the  Pendergrast  people  know  a  few.  Let  May- 
field  and  me  deal  with  them  after  this." 

"Tommie,"  I  said  contritely,  "I'll  attend  strictly  to 
my  own  business  hereafter." 

"That  will  keep  you  busy  enough,"  Dowd  con- 
tinued, "for  instance,  you've  got  a  job  ahead  of  you 
at  the  soldiers'  mass  meeting  to-morrow  night  that  will 
require  all  the  strength  you  have,  and  so  have  I." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  asked.  "All  I  have  to 
do  is  to  go  there  and  make  my  speech,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes,  if  you  can  make  it." 

"Why  can't  I?  I  know  it  by  heart,  and  I  have 
had  enough  practice  in  speaking  now  to  put  it  over." 

"Granted,  but  suppose  they  won't  let  you?" 

"Who  won't  let  me?    What's  going  to  hinder  me?" 

"Hunkins,  maybe.  We  haven't  said  anything  to  you 
about  it,  because  you  have  trouble  enough,  but,  if  you 
will  think  a  minute  you  will  realize  that  Hunkins  won't 
allow  us  to  get  away  with  that  soldier  endorsement 
if  he  can  help  it.  I've  had  reports  on  him.  He  in- 
tends to  plant  a  lot  of  his  men  in  the  meeting — he  has 
some  of  the  soldiers  with  him,  you  know — to  prevent 
an  endorsement  of  you,  or  break  the  meeting  up  in  a 


300  HUNKINS 

row  without  action.  A  bunch  of  Hunkins  shouters 
there  can  raise  a  lot  of  disturbance.  It  may  not  be 
the  peaceful  affair  you  have  imagined." 

"But  we  have  a  majority  of  the  soldiers  with  us, 
haven't  we?" 

"We  have,  and  our  fellows  will  be  there  early.  I 
shall  preside  at  that  meeting  myself.  It  may  be  as 
calm  as  a  knitting  party,  or  it  may  turn  out  a  riot 
Be  prepared  for  whatever  happens,  and  be  here  at 
half  past  six  to  go  with  me." 

"Are  our  fellows  all  set?"  I  asked. 

"Set  and  ready  to  spring,"  Dowd  replied.  "I  hope 
they  won't  have  to,  but  if  they  do,  there  will  be  some 
policemen  needed  before  the  proceedings  have  gone 
far." 

Dowd  then  outlined  the  plan  of  the  meeting  for  me. 
Our  fellows  are  to  come  in  squads  from  the  various 
wards,  each  headed  by  a  man  in  command.  The  seats 
in  the  hall  are  to  be  blocked  off  in  the  center,  and 
each  block  is  to  be  in  charge  of  men  who  will  hold 
the  seats  in  it  vacant  until  our  fellows  are  in  them. 
This  is  to  give  us  a  compact  body  in  the  center  of  the 
hall.  We  expect  about  two  thousand  of  our  men  to 
be  on  hand,  possibly  more.  The  men  in  charge  are 
instructed  to  have  them  in  the  hall  by  seven  o'clock, 
when  the  bands  will  play  war  tunes  and  a  leader  on 
the  stage  will  keep  them  singing  war  songs  until  it  is 
time  to  open  the  meeting.  Dowd  is  to  announce  him- 
self as  chosen  to  preside,  and  will  make  a  speech.  I 
am  to  follow.  Then  two  or  three  soldiers  will  talk, 
and  resolutions  endorsing  me  are  to  be  presented  and 
adopted.  If  the  Hunkins  men  start  anything  Dowd 


PREPARING  FOR  TROUBLE          301 

will  rush  things  through,  by  force  of  gavel,  and  de- 
clare the  resolutions  adopted,  no  matter  what  protest 
there  may  be.  There  will  be  capable  citizens  on  hand 
to  make  any  physical  disturbance  the  Hunkins  men  may 
undertake  as  unpleasant  as  possible  to  the  disturbers. 

"The  two  important  points,"  said  Dowd,  "are  for 
you  to  be  there  and  for  me  to  be  there  promptly,  and 
for  neither  of  us  to  be  rattled  by  noise.  It  may  be 
you  will  make  your  speech  without  anybody  hearing  it, 
not  even  yourself,  but  you  make  it  just  the  same,  and 
I'll  do  the  rest." 

"All  right,"  I  replied,  rather  pleased  at  the  pros- 
pect of  a  lively  evening,  "I'll  make  it.  You  may  de- 
pend on  that." 

When  I  left  the  office  at  five  o'clock  on  Tuesday 
afternoon  everything  seemed  in  order.  Final  reports 
were  in,  from  our  squad  leaders,  and  final  instructions 
had  been  issued.  Dowd  said  that  an  extra  detail  of 
policemen  would  be  at  the  hall,  and  that  the  chances 
favor  our  men  getting  the  worst  of  any  police  interfer- 
ence that  might  ensue  inasmuch  as  the  police  are  con- 
trolled, of  course,  by  Pendergrast  influences,  nomi- 
nally, at  least,  while  the  head  of  the  department  is  an 
officer  who  has  been  held  in  place  for  some  years  by 
Hunkins.  To  meet  this  contingency  about  a  hundred 
of  our  huskiest  men  will  be  in  the  rear  of  the  hall, 
where  most  of  the  police  are  likely  to  be  at  first,  to 
surround  the  police  if  they  show  signs  of  going  into 
action,  and  hold  them  off  as  well  as  possible  for  a 
time  until  Dowd  can  put  over  the  resolutions.  After 
that,  our  fellows  will  quit,  and  we'll  take  chances  on 


302  HUNKINS 

the  arrest  of  any  of  them  for  resisting  officers,  and 
be  prepared  to  defend  them  later. 

I  went  home  to  change  my  clothes  to  my  formal 
speech-making  rig — cutaway  coat,  and  so  on — and 
Dowd  left  to  go  down  to  the  Ninth  Ward  to  see  his 
mother,  who  is  ill.  The  plan  was  to  meet  at  the 
Power  Building  and  go  to  the  hall  together  in  my  car. 

Dad  was  home  when  I  arrived.  We  decided  that 
he  would  use  the  big  car,  to  take  himself  and  some 
friends  to  the  hall,  and  take  the  chauffeur,  while  I 
would  drive  the  runabout  myself,  and  pick  up  Dowd 
at  the  Power  Building.  I  was  ready  to  leave  at  fifteen 
minutes  past  six  when  the  man  came  in  and  said  some- 
body wanted  to  see  me.  "Lord,"  I  said,  "another 
striker.  Can't  see  him,"  I  told  the  man.  "Tell  him 
to  come  to-morrow." 

"He  insists,"  the  man  replied.    "I  told  him " 

Before  he  could  finish  his  sentence  Sergeant  David- 
son came  into  the  room.  "Excuse  me,"  he  said,  "but 
this  is  important.  How  are  you  going  to  the  hall 
to-night?" 

"In  my  car.    Why?" 

"No,  I  don't  mean  that;  by  what  streets?" 

"Why,  down  Poplar  Street  to  James  and  then  to 
Second  and  on  to  Main.  It's  the  shortest  way." 

"Don't  do  it,"  urged  Davidson.  "Go  some  other 
way." 

"Why?" 

"Because  they've  got  traffic  cops  strung  out  all  along 
those  streets  with  instructions  to  pick  you  up  at  any 
corner,  charge  you  with  violating  traffic  regulations, 
and  drag  you  off  to  headquarters  to  see  the  lieutenant 


PREPARING  FOR  TROUBLE  303 

in  charge.     They  want  to  delay  you  in  getting  to  that 
meeting." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"Jerry  Halloran,  an  army  buddie  of  mine,  who  is 
back  on  the  force,  told  me.  It's  straight.  Jerry  is 
picked  to  stand  at  the  corner  of  James  and  Second 
and  grab  you  the  minute  you  get  there,  if  you  get 
that  far.  He's  for  you,  and  he  tipped  me  off." 
"But  I  shan't  break  any  traffic  regulations." 
"You  don't  have  to.  They'll  pinch  you  anyhow, 
take  you  in,  and  let  you  go  after  it's  too  late  for  you 
to  get  to  the  meeting.  Go  to  the  hall  some  other 
way.  I've  got  a  taxi  on  a  side  street.  Leave  your 
car  here  and  cut  across  with  me,  and  we'll  go  by  back 
streets.  They've  got  men  at  both  ends  and  on  every 
corner  of  Poplar  Street." 

"But  I've  got  to  pick  up  Dowd." 
"Telephone  him  and  tell  him  to  go  alone." 
I  called  our  headquarters.     Dowd  wasn't  there.     I 
told  Miss  Crawford  to  tell  Dowd  not  to  wait  for 
me,  but  go  to  the  hall  at  once,  and  Davidson  and  I 
went  out  the  rear  door,  across  our  back  yard,  climbed 
the  fence  and  circuitously  reached  the  taxicab.     Then 
we  told  the  driver  to  get  to  the  hall  by  a  roundabout 
route. 

"They'd  have  pinched  you  sure  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  Jerry  Halloran,"  said  Davidson.  "I  hope  they 
won't  get  Tommie." 

I  made  a  mental  note  of  Jerry  Halloran.  If  I  am 
elected  mayor  that  boy  will  be  a  police  lieutenant  be- 
fore I  am  in  office  a  week. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

DOWD    IS    DELAYED 

IT  was  a  quarter  past  seven  o'clock  when  we  arrived 
at  the  hall.  There  was  a  detail  of  policemen, 
outside,  and  a  good  many  people  were  going  in. 
I  saw  numerous  men  I  knew  to  be  soldiers  in  the 
crowd.  Nobody  interfered  with  me,  and  I  got  to  the 
rear  of  the  stage,  where  I  could  watch  the  floor  and  not 
be  seen.  The  hall  is  the  largest  in  the  city,  and  seats 
about  four  thousand  on  the  main  floor.  There  is  a  big 
balcony,  also.  I  took  a  quick  look  over  the  floor.  The 
hall  was  about  two-thirds  full  then,  the  center  section 
largely  occupied  by  young  men  who  sat  in  compact 
groups.  Other  young  men  were  coming  in.  Steve  Fox 
came  along. 

"Where's  Tommie?"  he  asked. 

"I  don't  know;  he'll  be  here  soon,  probably.  I  had 
to  come  alone."  I  told  Steve  the  story,  and  he  whis- 
tled. "Rough  stuff,"  he  said.  "Probably  be  some  do- 
ings here  to-night." 

"How's  it  shaping?"  I  asked  him. 

"Fine!  Two  thousand  of  our  fellows  are  in  al- 
ready, and  they  are  coming  in  streams.  Nearly  as  we 
can  figure  it  there  are  not  more  than  three  or  four 
hundred  Hunkins  shouters  in  yet.  Probably  some  of 
those  are  mixed  in  with  our  boys,  but  we've  shunted 

304 


DOWD  IS  DELAYED  305 

a  good  many  of  them  to  the  sides.  There  are  a  lot 
of  policemen  sticking  around,  but  they  are  peaceful  as 
yet.  I'll  start  the  music.  Tommie  will  be  here  any 
minute." 

We  had  a  band  on  the  stage  and  one  in  the  balcony. 
Jimmie  Melander,  a  local  singer  who  was  a  soldier, 
went  to  the  stage  band  and  started  "Over  There." 
Then  he  ran  to  the  front  of  the  stage  with  a  mega- 
phone and  shouted:  "Go  to  it,  boys!  Everybody 
sing!"  The  soldiers  joined  in  with  the  band  and  rol- 
licked through  the  song  with  great  volume  of  sound 
and  considerable  melody.  As  soon  as  that  was  fin- 
ished Jimmie  waved  to  the  band  in  the  balcony,  and 
that  leader  played  "Somewhere  in  France  There's  a 
Lily,"  and  the  boys  sang  that,  too. 

Thus  it  went,  for  half  an  hour,  with  the  hall  filling 
steadily,  the  soldiers  singing  lustily,  a  good  many 
women  and  non-military  spectators  gathering  in  the 
balcony,  but  Dowd  did  not  come. 

"What's  happened  to  him?"  I  asked.  "Do  you 
think  they  got  him?" 

"Maybe,"  said  Steve.  "But  he'll  be  here.  I'm  sure 
of  that,"  and  he  urged  Melander  to  keep  them  going. 

The  singing  went  well  until  eight  o'clock,  but  then 
the  interest  began  to  flag.  There  were  shouts  of: 
"Speech!"  "Speech!"  "Get  her  going!"  "What 
are  we  here  for?"  "Where  do  we  go  from  here?" 
and  much  stamping  of  feet  and  clapping  of  hands. 
These  shouts  came  from  the  sides  of  the  hall,  mostly, 
but  I  noticed  that  our  boys,  in  the  center,  were  joining 
in,  too. 

"I'll  spring  some  sob  stuff  on  them,"  said  Jimmie 


306  HUNKINS 

Melander,  and  he  had  the  band  on  the  stage  play  "Just 
a  Baby's  Prayer  at  Twilight."  This  hit  them  right, 
and  they  warbled  about  the  baby  and  her  prayer  for 
fifteen  minutes,  as  Jimmie  skillfully  repeated  the  chorus 
several  times.  Then  the  demand  for  action  began 
again.  "Speech!  Speech!"  they  shouted.  "Where's 
this  candidate  for  mayor?" 

"We  can't  hold  them  much  longer,"  said  Steve,  who 
had  been  to  the  main  entrance  to  see  if  there  were  any 
signs  of  the  missing  Dowd.  "Where  the  devil  is 
Tommie?  They've  got  him  sure." 

Mr.  Mayfield  came  back,  and  advised  immediate 
action.  "They  will  get  away  from  us  if  we  don't  be- 
gin at  once,"  he  said. 

"But  Dowd  isn't  here,"  I  protested. 

"Can't  wait  any  longer.  I'll  open  the  meeting  my- 
self. Meantime,  Steve,  as  Dowd  has  the  resolutions 
you  write  another  set  while  Talbot  and  I  speak." 

The  hall  was  crowded.  The  noise  and  shouting 
were  clamorous.  Men  were  moving  about  as  well  as 
they  could,  and  there  were  cat  calls,  shrill  whistles, 
stamping  of  feet,  and  loud  cries  for  Talbot. 

Mr.  Mayfield  went  out  on  the  stage,  and  held  up 
his  hand.  The  noise  gradually  subsided. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "Mr.  Thomas  J. 
Dowd  was  to  preside  over  this  meeting,  and  the  de- 
lay has  been  caused  by  his  non-arrival.  You  all  know 
Mr.  Dowd,  and  you  know  that  he  would  be  here  unless 
unavoidably  detained.  Mr.  Dowd " 

"That's  all  right  about  Dowd,"  yelled  a  man  at  the 
left  side  of  the  hall.  "That's  all  right  about  Dowd, 
but  who  the  hell  are  you?" 


DOWD  IS  DELAYED  307 

There  was  a  roar  of  laughter  at  this.  Mr.  May- 
field  waited,  and  then  spoke  again.  "As  I  was  saying, 
when  asked  to  identify  myself  by  some  gentleman  in 
the  audience,  Mr.  Dowd  has  been  detained " 

There  was  a  movement  in  the  crowd,  a  giving  and 
shoving,  and  we  heard  a  shout:  "Here  I  am!  Here  I 
am!"  It  was  Tommie's  voice. 

"Gentlemen!"  screamed  Mr.  Mayfield  at  the  top 
of  his  voice,  "Mr.  Dowd  is  now  here,  and  will  speak 
for  himself." 

Tommie  came  on  the  stage.  He  had  no  hat.  His 
hair  was  tumbled.  His  collar  was  torn.  His  coat 
was  ripped  at  the  collar.  There  was  a  long  red  mark 
on  his  right  cheek  that  showed  vividly  against  the 
whiteness  of  his  face.  His  lips  were  set,  his  fists 
clenched,  his  eyes  blazing.  He  ran  to  the  front  of 
the  stage,  while  our  men  stood  up  and  cheered  wildly, 
and  the  Hunkins  contingent  jeered,  and  cat-called  and 
whistled. 

He  waited  there  looking  out  over  the  crowd,  set 
like  a  prize  fighter  waiting  the  word  to  drive  in  against 
his  antagonist.  The  cheers  died  down,  and  then 
started  again.  Dowd  waited,  calm,  poised,  every  inch 
a  fighting  man. 

He  raised  his  hand,  finally,  and  the  cheering  and 
jeering  gradually  stopped. 

"Give  him  a  chance !"  came  from  various  parts  of 
the  hall.  There  was  a  hush. 

"Boys,"  he  said,  "Tom  Pendergrast  got  back  to 
town  to-day,  and  tried  to  keep  me  from  coming  to 
this  meeting;  but  I'm  here." 

"Where's  Pendergrast?"  shouted  somebody. 


308  HUNKINS 

"He's  on  his  way  to  the  Emergency  Hospital!" 
roared  Dowd.  "This  meeting  will  now  come  to 
order." 

It  was  some  time  before  the  meeting  came  to  order 
because  our  fellows  rose  in  instant  and  vociferous  re- 
sponse to  Dowd's  shout.  They  let  go  a  cheer  that 
could  be  heard  for  half  a  mile.  We  had  a  clear  view,, 
then,  of  our  strength.  Steve,  who  knows  how  to  esti- 
mate crowds,  said  we  had  between  twenty-five  hun- 
dred and  three  thousand  men  there,  in  a  fairly  com- 
pact body.  The  Hunkins  men  tried  to  hoot  our 
shouters  down,  but  they  got  nowhere.  We  had  the 
floor. 

Presently,  Dowd  stilled  them  and  said:  "The  cen- 
tral committee  has  designated  me  to  preside  over  this 
meeting,  and  has  selected  Captain  Stephen  Fox  as 
secretary.  All  in  favor  say  'Aye'." 

There  was  a  roaring,  rolling  "Aye!" 

"Contrary,  'No,'  "  said  Dowd. 

"No!"  shouted  the  Hunkins  men,  but  in  far  less 
volume. 

"Ayes  have  it,"  said  Dowd,  "and  it  is  so  ordered." 
He  banged  on  the  table  with  his  gavel,  stepped  for- 
ward a  pace,  and  began  to  talk. 

"Comrades,"  he  said,  "there  are  two  reasons  why 
you  were  asked  to  come  here  to-night.  The  first  is 
because  we  want  to  testify,  publicly,  to  the  people  of 
this  city,  and  this  state  and  nation  to  our  singleness 
of  purpose,  our  closeness  of  organization,  our  union 
of  motive,  our  determination  to  stand  together  for  our 
mutual  protection  and  welfare;  because  we  have  it  in 
our  minds  and  hearts  to  expand  and  make  lasting  the 


DOWD  IS  DELAYED  309 

comradeship  begun  by  our  service  with  the  flag,  and 
to  act  in  all  ways  one  for  all  and  all  for  one  in  every 
relation  of  life  wherein  our  close  and  knitted  organi- 
zation and  solidarity  of  motive  and  thought  shall  be 
of  benefit. 

"The  second  reason  is  because,  at  this  juncture  in 
our  affairs,  and  in  the  affairs  of  the  city  in  which  we 
live,  we  have  presented  to  us,  laid  before  us  to  grasp 
if  we  will,  an  opportunity  to  demonstrate  to  our  people 
that  we  are  a  force  to  be  reckoned  with,  that  we  have 
organized  ourselves  not  alone  for  our  mutual  aims  and 
desires  but  for  the  benefit  of  all  our  fellow-citizens. 
We  have  an  opportunity  to  do  a  great  public  service, 
to  show  our  patriotism,  to  express,  in  unmistakable 
terms,  our  demand  for  good,  clean,  honest  city  gov- 
ernment, to  prove  that  we  have  faith  in  the  ideals  for 
which  we  fought  and  for  which  many  of  us  died." 

Dowd  talked  for  thirty  minutes  in  that  strain, 
clearly,  and  with  a  force  and  passion  that  brought  our 
fellows  up  cheering  many  times.  He  outlined  the  pur- 
poses of  the  organization  of  the  soldiers  and  sailors, 
reiterated  his  convictions  as  to  the  necessity  for  and 
value  of  such  organization  not  only  for  the  benefit  and 
protection  of  the  men,  but  for  the  further  purpose 
of  inculcating  into  their  lives  and  conduct,  in  both 
public  and  private  affairs,  the  great  lessons  of  the  war. 
It  was  an  emphatic  and  eloquent  speech,  of  a  tone 
and  character  fitted  to  the  audience,  from  a  man  who 
is  one  of  them,  who  served  with  them,  and  of  them, 
not  with  a  commission,  but  as  a  sergeant,  and  shared 
all  their  hardships,  dangers,  burdens  and  successes. 
There  were  a  few  feeble  attempts  to  hoot  him  down, 


3io  HUNKINS 

but  the  warning  "Shut  up!"  that  came  from  our  fel- 
lows silenced  the  interrupters.  There  was  menace  in 
that  "Shut  up!"  and  they  knew  it. 

"In  conclusion,"  said  Dowd,  "it  is  my  honor  and 
my  privilege  to  present  to  you  a  man  who  is  stand- 
ing for  all  these  things,  who  is  one  of  us,  who  served 
in  the  Army,  and  fought  in  France,  who  has  taken 
a  forward  step  by  denouncing  the  plots  of  the  political 
bosses  of  this  city  to  fasten  upon  us  for  another  period 
this  corrupt  and  indecent  government  that  now  pre- 
vails, who  has  protested,  and  is  protesting  against 
bosses  and  bossism  and  fighting  for  clean,  honest,  non- 
partisan,  business  administration  of  municipal  affairs 
— a  soldier  and  a  patriot — Captain  George  Talbot." 

He  turned  and  bowed  to  me.  Our  fellows  rose 
again  and  cheered  a  big,  booming,  roaring  cheer.  I 
walked  out  to  the  front  of  the  stage,  nervous,  dizzy, 
trembly  in  the  legs,  and  with  my  palms  and  forehead 
clammy  with  cold  sweat. 

"Over  the  top,  George,'5  said  Dowd.  "It's  now 
or  never." 

I  began  my  speech,  hesitatingly,  brokenly.  Then 
Dowd  said  again:  "George — George — you're  not  go- 
ing to  show  yellow,  are  you?" 

That  was  the  prod  I  needed.  Instantly,  my  legs 
stiffened,  my  eyes  cleared,  my  voice  was  restored. 
"Not  by  a  damned  sight!"  I  snarled  at  him.  "Give 
me  a  chance!" 

I  proceeded  with  my  speech,  but  it  sounded  so  flat 
after  Dowd's  virile  effort,  with  its  studied  phrases, 
and  its  set  arguments,  I  said  to  myself:  "This  won't 
do.  This  isn't  the  stuff  for  these  boys,"  and  I  cast 


DOWD  IS  DELAYED  311 

it  out  of  my  mind,  stopped  for  an  instant,  and  said: 
"Comrades,  we  lost,  in  my  company,  sixty-six  men, 
in  killed  and  wounded.  Those  boys  died  and  were 
maimed  for  a  principle.  I  know  about  them  best  be- 
cause they  were  my  boys,  but  all  the  thousands  and 
thousands  of  other  boys  who  were  killed  and  maimed 
were  fighting  for  the  same  principle,  you  among  them. 
They  all  died  in  vain,  all  suffered  in  vain,  if  the  prin- 
ciple for  which  they  fought,  and  we  fought,  died  also 
on  the  day  the  war  ended,  and  does  not  live  now, 
with  us,  for  application  to  our  lives  and  conduct,  to 
our  personal  and  our  public  affairs." 

"Great!"  whispered  Dowd.  "Go  to  it." 
Then  I  talked  to  that  audience  as  I  talked  to  Dowd, 
as  I  talked  to  Dad.  Indeed,  I  saw  Dad  over  in  one 
of  the  boxes  and  I  did  talk  to  him,  not  looking  at 
him,  but  as  freely  and  frankly  as  if  he  were  the  only 
person  present.  I  didn't  speak  a  sentence  of  my  pre- 
pared speech,  but  I  told  those  boys,  in  their  own 
language,  what  we  are  trying  to  do,  what  the  real 
reason  of  my  stand  is,  and  I  got  them.  They  cheered 
me  every  time  I  stopped  to  draw  a  breath,  almost.  I 
don't  know  how  long  I  talked,  but  when  I  finished 
they  were  all  standing  and  shouting  and  Jimmie  Me- 
lander  turned  both  bands  loose  with  "Hail,  Hail,  the 
gang's  all  here  I"  and  they  sang  it  with  a  thunderous 
enthusiasm  that  made  the  windows  rattle. 

Three  men  who  served  in  the  ranks  followed  me, 
speaking  five  or  six  minutes  each,  and  outlining  clearly 
and  forcefully  the  benefits  of  organization,  and  espe- 
cially of  organized  and  concerted  action  at  this  time. 


312  HUNKINS 

One  of  them,  a  tall,  intense,  black-haired  youngster  of 
twenty-two  or  twenty-three,  took  a  lead  that  was  re- 
ceived with  great  acclaim.  "We  went  over  there,"  he 
said,  "and  we  were  glad  to  go,  and  we  are  glad  we 
went,  but  we  feel  that  when  we  were  conscripted  to  go 
to  France,  and  to  serve  in  the  army  elsewhere,  and  set 
at  work  that  might  mean  death  for  us,  and  did  mean 
the  greatest  limit  of  human  endurance  and  laborious 
effort,  it  would  have  been  fairer  to  us,  and  more  in 
keeping  with  our  professed  democracy,  if  labor,  at 
home,  had  been  drafted,  also,  and  not  coddled,  and 
paid  whatever  was  demanded  in  wages,  and  pampered 
with  short  hours  and  big  overtime  pay,  and  coaxed 
out  of  strikes  by  the  most  considerate  and  fulsome 
methods  while  we  were  in  the  very  jaws  of  death, 
and  subject  to  court  martial  if  we  failed  to  obey  the 
most  arbitrary  demand.  We  feel  that  our  government 
should  have  treated  labor  at  home  as  it  treated  us; 
that  democracy  meant  one  thing  for  us  fighting  in 
France,  and  preparing  in  the  camps  here  to  fight  there, 
and  another  thing  for  the  men  whose  labor  was  as 
essential  to  the  conduct  of  the  war  as  ours,  and  who 
demanded  and  were  given  the  highest  awards  for  what 
we  willingly  did  for  thirty  dollars  a  month." 

"That's  the  way  a  lot  of  them  feel,"  Dowd  whis- 
pered to  me,  "and  I  don't  blame  them,  but  I  wish  he 
hadn't  said  it  here." 

"They  like  it,"  I  replied.  "Look  at  them."  They 
were  cheering  the  young  orator.  He  was  much  ex- 
cited, and  wanted  to  go  on,  but  Dowd  shook  his  head 
at  him,  and  he  closed  cleverly  with  a  few  sentences 


DOWD  IS  DELAYED  313 

about  the  value  of  organization  to  prevent  similar  dis- 
criminations in  the  future. 

Dowd  banged  on  the  table  for  order  after  he  had 
finished.  "Brace  yourself,"  he  said  to  me,  "here's 
where  the  row  starts  if  there  is  going  to  be  one." 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE   FIGHT  IN  RATTIGAN'S 

DOWD  quieted  the  hall  with  his  insistent  gavel. 
"Comrades,"  he  said,  "it  has  been  apparent 
since  we  began  this  meeting  that  there  is  a 
small  and  noisy  minority  here  evidently  for 
the  purpose  of  making  as  much  disturbance  as  possible 
and  probably  with  the  idea  of  preventing  any  affirma- 
tive action  by  this  gathering.  To  that  small  minority 
I  desire  to  say  that  the  next  order  of  business  of  this 
meeting  is  the  moving  of  a  set  of  resolutions  covering 
the  objects  and  conclusions  of  it.  If,  however,  they 
continue  the  tactics  they  have  thus  far  pursued  the  reso- 
lutions will  be  adopted,  just  the  same,  provided  a 
majority  vote  is  cast  for  them,  and  their  objections  will 
be  met  in  the  same  manner  they  are  presented.  We 
shall  not  start  anything,  but  I  am  here  to  say  we  can 
and  will  stop-  anything  that  is  started.  I  recognize 
Captain  Stephen  Fox." 

As  Dowd  was  speaking  I  noticed  that  a  considerable 
number  of  our  men  were  moving  to  the  right  and  left 
of  the  hall,  spreading  out  along  the  walls.  There  were 
a  few  hoots  as  Steve  stepped  forward,  but  in  the  main 
the  hall  was  quiet. 

"I  offer  the  following  resolutions  and  move  their 

314 


THE  FIGHT  IN  RATTIGAN'S         315 

adoption,"  said  Steve.  He  then  read  a  series  of  reso- 
lutions, outlining  and  affirming  the  objects  of  the 
soldiers'  organization  as  thus  far  accomplished  and 
as  to  be  accomplished,  reciting  the  conditions  prece- 
dent to  my  candidacy,  and  closing  with  this  paragraph : 

"Resolved:  It  is  the  sense  of  this  meeting  of  sol- 
diers and  sailors  of  the  great  war,  now  bound  to- 
gether in  a  common  body  for  mutual  protection  and 
benefit  and  for  the  purpose  of  securing  for  ourselves 
the  benefits  of  a  government  that  shall  uphold  the 
ideals  for  which  we  fought,  and  support  the  integrity 
and  progressiveness  of  our  institutions,  both  civic  and 
national,  that  the  best  interests  of  the  city  will  be 
served  and  clean  and  honest  municipal  government 
secured  by  the  choice  of  Captain  George  Talbot  for 
mayor,  and  we  pledge  ourselves  to  vote  for  him  and 
support  him  in  the  coming  primary,  and,  if  successful, 
to  do  all  in  our  power  to  secure  his  election  in  No- 
vember." 

"I  second  the  resolutions  I"  shouted  Sergeant  Ral- 
ston, from  the  floor. 

"Mr.  Chairman — Mr.  Chairman  I"  screamed  a  man 
at  the  extreme  left  of  the  hall,  a  man  I  did  not  know 
and  had  not  seen  before. 

"For  what  purpose  does  the  gentleman  rise?"  asked 
Dowd. 

"I  rise  to  offer  a  substitute  resolution  for  those  just 
read." 

"Is  the  gentleman  a  veteran  of  the  late  war — did  he 
serve  either  in  the  army  or  the  navy?" 

"In  the  army.  My  name  is  Phelps,  and  I  was  in 
the  Second  Division  and  was  in  France." 


316  HUNKINS 

"The  gentleman  is  entitled  to  be  heard.  Will  he 
read  his  resolution  ?" 

"Platform!  Platform  I"  came  from  all  parts  of 
the  hall. 

Phelps  struggled  through  the  crowd  and  got  to  the 
stage.  He  was  an  able,  alert-looking  chap,  entirely 
self-possessed,  and  of  good  voice.  "Comrades,"  he 
said,  "I  do  not  believe  the  best  interests  of  the  soldiers 
and  sailors  of  this  city  will  be  served  by  the  adoption 
of  the  resolution  just  read.  I,  therefore,  offer  the 
following  brief  substitute  resolution:  Resolved,  it  is 
the  sense  of  this  meeting  that  no  candidate  for  mayor 
shall  be  endorsed,  but  that,  in  accordance  with  the 
true  spirit  of  democracy,  all  sailors  and  soldiers  shall 
be  left  to  their  own  determinations  in  selecting  the 
candidate  for  whom  they  shall  vote  at  the  primary, 
and  not  obligated  or  pledged  by  a  meeting 
packed " 

"A — h — h!"  came  from  our  fellows,  who  were  rest- 
less during  Phelps'  reading.  "Cut  it  short!"  "Vote !" 
"Vote!"  they  shouted. 

"Meeting  packed  by  bosses  whose  methods  are  as 
arbitrary  as  those  of  the  men  they  condemn !"  shouted 
Phelps,  and  turning,  faced  Dowd  as  if  to  ask:  "Now, 
what  are  you  going  to  do  with  that?" 

"Do  I  hear  a  second?"  asked  Dowd,  imperturbably. 

"Second  it,"  came  from  both  the  right  and  left  of 
the  hall. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Dowd,  "you  have  heard  the  sub- 
stitute resolution  which  has  been  moved  and  seconded. 
The  question  is " 


THE  FIGHT  IN  RATTIGAN'S         317 

"Aw,  hell!"  broke  in  a  loud  voice.  "We  can't  do 
nothin'  here.  Let's  go!" 

There  was  a  swaying  of  men,  a  scuffle,  and  the  sound 
of  a  seat  cracking.  Our  men  rose  and  turned  towards 
the  noise.  The  police  began  to  move. 

"Sit  steady,  boys!"  ordered  Dowd.    "It's  nothing!" 

"Mr.  Chairman!"  shouted  Davidson,  from  the 
quarter  of  the  hall  where  the  disturbance  was,  "go 
ahead!  This  guy  won't  interrupt  again." 

Meantime,  Phelps  on  the  stage  evidently  awaited 
some  action.  He  looked  expectantly  out  towards  his 
forces.  Then  he  ran  to  the  front  of  the  stage  and 
yelled:  "Adjourn!  Adjourn!  Move  we  adjourn!" 

"No,"  roared  our  men.    "No!    No!    No!" 

"Motion  to  adjourn  is  lost,"  announced  Dowd. 
"Question  is  on  the  adoption  of  the  substitute  resolu- 
tion. All  in  favor " 

"Meeting's  adjourned,"  came  shrilly  from  the  right 
and  left  of  the  hall.  "It's  adjourned.  Let's  go !" 

"Sit  down!"  commanded  loud  voices.  "Sit  down, 
or  we'll  make  you." 

What  happened  then  did  not  last  thirty  seconds. 
There  were  some  scuffles,  a  few  more  chairs  cracked, 
a  few  men  cursed,  and  we  saw  one  or  two  go  down 
suddenly.  "Go  ahead!"  bellowed  a  big  voice. 
"They're  hollering  kamerad  already." 

"All  in  favor  of  the  substitute  resolution  signify  it 
by  saying:  'Aye'."  There  was  a  scattering  shout  of 
"Aye!" 

"Contrary  'No',"  said  Dowd.  Our  men  thundered 
a  "No!"  that  sounded  like  a  battery  of  heavies. 


3i  8  HUNKINS 

"Substitute  is  lost.  Question  now  recurs  on  the 
original  resolution.  All  in  favor  say:  'Aye!' ' 

"Aye  I"  they  roared. 

"Contrary:  'No'."     There  were  a  few  noes. 

Bang!  Bang!  Bang!  went  Dowd's  gavel.  "Reso- 
lution's adopted.  Motion  to  adjourn  is  in  order.  Mo- 
tion made  and  seconded.  Carried.  Meeting's  ad- 
journed!" Bang!  went  the  gavel  again,  and  Dowd 
shouted:  "Let  'em  go,  boys.  It's  all  over."  There 
was  a  burst  of  cheering  at  this;  the  hall  stirred,  seats 
rattled,  men  crowded  into  the  aisles,  and  there  was 
all  the  clamor  and  confusion  of  conversation  that  comes 
when  a  large  body  of  people  begins  to  leave  a  gather- 
ing place.  The  band  crashed  into  "When  He  Comes 
Back,"  and  Dowd  came  to  me  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"It's  over,  George,"  he  said,  "the  way  I  hoped  it 
would  go,  without  as  much  trouble  as  I  expected.  The 
minority  didn't  have  the  nerve  to  go  against  us  when 
they  saw  our  numbers,  and  spirit,  and  this  is  a  fine 
testimonial  to  the  steadiness  and  sense  of  responsibility 
in  our  boys  that  they  didn't  get  after  that  outfit  and 
tear  them  up  root  and  branch.  That  is  their  natural 
tendency,  you  know.  But  they  didn't,  and  behaved 
like  men,  not  harum-scarum,  rough-housing  boys,  and 
I'm  glad  of  it.  However,"  he  added,  "if  anything  had 
started  it  would  have  been  a  gorgeous  affair." 

"Thank  you,  Tommie,"  I  told  him,  and  then  Steve 
joined  us,  and  both  of  us  asked:  "But  what  happened 
to  you?" 

"Let's  get  out  of  here,"  said  Dowd,  who  was  pale 
and  looked  very  tired.  I  noticed  that  his  hand  trem- 
bled as  I  took  it  in  mine.  "I'm  about  all  in,"  he 


continued.  "I  went  through  that  meeting  on  my  nerve, 
but  I  am  badly  battered  up,  just  the  same,  and  I  want 
to  go  somewhere  and  sit  down,  and  get  some  food." 

I  cut  the  congratulations  on  the  stage  as  short  as 
I  could,  and  Dowd,  pulling  himself  together  for  a  final 
effort,  assured  our  solicitous  friends,  including  Dad  and 
his  party,  that  he  was  all  right,  but  that  the  story 
would  keep  until  next  day,  as  he  had  some  work  to 
do.  He  and  Steve  and  I  slipped  out  the  back  door 
as  soon  as  we  could,  and  went  to  a  nearby  restaurant. 
Dowd  ordered  a  meal,  had  some  coffee,  and,  after  a 
time,  said:  "I'm  beginning  to  come  to,  now,  and  I'll 
tell  you  the  story."  He  lighted  his  cigar,  and  shifted 
himself  to  an  easy  position  in  his  chair.  "I  got  an 
awful  wallop  on  the  shoulder,"  he  said.  "It  hurts 
like  sin." 

I  have  some  knowledge  of  first  aid,  and  felt  to 
see  if  there  was  a  fracture.  So  far  as  I  could  deter- 
mine there  was  none,  but  Dowd  winced  when  I  touched 
him.  "Oh,  it's  all  right,"  he  said.  "I'll  be  pretty 
sore  to-morrow  but  I'll  wangle  through  with  it." 

"What  happened?"  asked  Steve. 

"In  the  first  place,"  Dowd  said,  "my  experience 
with  Pendergrast  had  nothing  to  do  with  this  meet- 
ing, although  I  made  it  seem  so  when  I  got  there,  hav- 
ing an  eye  to  dramatic  entrances  and  such  things." 

"It  didn't !"  I  exclaimed.  "Why,  they  tried  to  stop 
me,"  and  I  recounted  my  experiences. 

"Well,"  said  Dowd,  "I  can  see  why  they  would  stop 
you,  if  they  could,  for  a  big  meeting  like  that,  held  to 
endorse  a  candidate,  with  the  candidate  in  the  police 
station  when  he  should  be  at  the  meeting  would  make 


320  HUNKINS 

a  joke  of  it.  Also,  it  would  make  it  much  more  diffi- 
cult to  get  an  endorsement  that  would  stick,  or  be 
worth  anything.  It's  different  with  me.  I  am  not 
running  for  anything.  Mine  was  a  personal  matter." 

"Personal?"  said  Steve,  voicing  my  surprise  with 
the  question.  "What  sort  of  a  personal  matter?" 

"I  got  into  a  jam  with  Pendergrast.  I  don't  think 
he  gave  a  whoop  whether  I  went  to  the  meeting  or 
not.  Probably  he  knew  nothing  about  it,  as  he  only 
reached  town  at  noon.  This  was  the  way  of  it :  When 
I  left  George,  at  half  past  five,  I  went  down  to  the 
house  to  see  my  mother,  who  is  sick.  You  know,  I  am 
not  living  there  now.  Soon  after  I  left,  and  before 
I  got  there,  while  I  was  in  transit,  they  telephoned 
that  mother  is  much  sicker  than  they  thought  and 
that  they  were  taking  her  to  St.  Mary's  Hospital.  I 
found  that  out  when  I  reached  the  house.  Therefore, 
to  see  her,  and  I  wanted  to  see  her,  I  must  go  to  the 
hospital,  which  is  way  over  on  the  other  side  of  the 
city;  and  I  got  in  a  surface  car  and  rode  out  there. 
At  half  past  six,  the  time  I  was  to  meet  George  at 
headquarters,  I  was  with  mother.  I  telephoned  a  few 
minutes  after  that  to  say  I  wouldn't  be  at  the  office, 
but  would  go  direct  to  the  hall,  and  got  your  message 
that  you  wouldn't  be  there,  either. 

"Mother  is  very  sick,  and  I  stayed  with  her  just 
as  long  as  I  could.  It  was  about  a  quarter  after  seven 
when  I  left  the  hospital,  and  I  figured  I  could  get  to 
the  hall  in  thirty  minutes,  which  would  be  time  enough 
if  the  rest  of  you  were  there.  I  was  hungry  as  a  wolf, 
and  I  hurried  into  Paddy  Rattigan's  place,  on  West 
Monmouth  Street,  near  the  hospital,  to  get  a  sand- 


THE  FIGHT  IN  RATTIGAN'S         321 

wich  and  some  ginger  ale.  In  the  old  days  this  saloon 
was  owned  by  Pendergrast.  Rattigan,  who  is  one  of 
Pendergrast's  closest  friends,  ran  it  for  him.  After 
prohibition  came  Rattigan  kept  the  place  open  as  a 
sort  of  a  lunch  bar  and  soft-drink  dispensary,  with  a 
line  of  hard  stuff  on  the  side  for  trusties  and  permitted 
by  a  complaisant  police.  While  I  was  standing  at  the 
bar,  Tom  Pendergrast  came  out  of  the  back  room. 
I  know  Pendergrast  well,  and  have  known  him  ever 
since  I  was  a  boy,  as  he  used  to  be  at  my  father's  place 
a  good  deal. 

"  'Hello,  Tommie,'  he  said. 

"  'How  are  you,  Mr.  Pendergrast?'  I  answered.  'I 
didn't  know  you  had  returned.' 

'  'Just  got  back,'  he  said.     Tm  glad  I  ran  across 
you.     You  can  put  me  straight  on  some  things.' 

"  'I  can't  stop  now,'  I  told  him.  'I've  got  a  meet- 
ing to  attend  and  am  due  there  in  half  an  hour.' 

"  'Oh,  come  in  here  a  few  minutes.  You'll  have 
plenty  of  time,  and  I've  got  some  important  things 
to  say  to  you.' 

"I  confess  that  what  followed  was  my  own  fault. 
I  was  curious  to  know  what  was  in  his  mind,  and  I 
went  into  the  back  room,  with  my  half-eaten  sand- 
wich in  one  hand,  and  my  glass  mug  in  the  other.  Re- 
member that  glass  mug.  It's  important — one  of  those 
old-fashioned  ones,  made  of  heavy  glass,  with  a  handle 
— you  know  the  kind.  Rattigan  always  used  them 
for  his  customers,  who  demanded  a  full  measure  of 
beer  for  their  money,  and  didn't  bother  to  put  in  a  new 
stock  of  glasses  for  the  soft  drinks. 

"There  were  four  tables  in  the  room,  and  ten  or 


322  HUNKINS 

twelve  of  those  bent-wood  chairs,  a  bare  little  room 
where  Rattigan's  side  door  trade  sometimes  drinks, 
and  where  the  men  play  pinochle. 

"  'What  is  it?'  I  asked  him.  'Remember  I'm  in 
a  hurry.' 

'You've  got  plenty  of  time,'  he  said,  closing  the 
door.  'Sit  down.'  I  sat  down  in  one  of  the  chairs, 
on  one  side  of  a  table,  and  he  sat  down  opposite  me.  I 
was  facing  the  door.  He  had  his  back  to  it.  The 
table  was  the  one  nearest  the  door. 

*  'Now,  then,'  he  said,  'I  want  to  know  what  the 

hell  you  mean  by  mixing  up  with  that '     George, 

I'd  hate  to  tell  you  what  he  called  you — 'Talbot  in 
that  Miller  business,  and  what  you  are  doing  now,  and 
where  you  get  off,  anyhow,  to  be  a  part  of  that  job 
Hunkins  framed  on  me?  You're  the  first  one  of  that 
bunch  I  have  seen,  and  I  just  want  to  talk  with  you.' 

"  'You  can't  talk  with  me  about  that,'  I  said.  'You 
know  very  well  what  part  I  took  in  that,  and  if  it 
is  any  satisfaction  to  you  I'll  say  that  I  am  backing  that 
same  Talbot  for  mayor  against  your  man  and  Hun- 
kins'  m'an,  and  we're  going  to  win,  too.  That's  all 
there  is  to  it.' 

"I  started  to  rise,  with  my  beer-mug  in  my  hand, 
when  Pendergrast  pulled  an  old  rough-and-tumble 
fighter's  trick  on  me.  He  shoved  the  table  over  quickly 
against  my  legs,  lifted  his  side  of  it,  gave  it  a  hard 
push,  caught  me  on  the  thighs  as  I  was  rising,  and 
upset  me.  I  fell  to  the  floor,  with  the  table  on  top 
of  me,  but  I  hung  to  my  glass.  Pendergrast  reached 
to  the  door,  turned  the  key  in  it,  threw  the  key  on  the 
floor,  and  said:  'Now,  damn  you,  I  might  as  well  be- 


THE  FIGHT  IN  RATTIGAN'S         323 

gin  with  you  as  any  one  else !  I  came  back  here  to  trim 
a  lot  of  you  nosey  guys  for  my  own  revenge,  and  I'll 
trim  you  first.' 

"I  had  pushed  the  table  off  my  body,  and  was  up- 
right when  he  jumped  at  me,  cursing  like  a  crazy  man 
— darned  if  I  don't  think  he  has  lost  his  mind — and 
we  gripped.  I  dropped  my  glass,  and  tried  to  catch 
him  by  the  throat.  He  was  beating  at  my  face  with 
his  fists,  and  we  slammed  around  there  quite  a  lot, 
tipping  over  tables  and  chairs.  I  thought  the  noise 
would  attract  somebody,  but  P.  Rattigan  stayed  dis- 
creetly away  and  nobody  else  was  in  the  place.  Any- 
how, Pendergrast  got  in  a  couple  of  good  wallops  at 
me,  and  I  think  I  landed  on  him  once  or  twice.  Then 
I  managed  to  get  a  leg  grip  on  him,  turned  him  over 
and  moved  back.  He  rose  quicker  than  you'd  think 
a  man  of  his  bulk  could,  and  closed  in. 

"I  knew  I  could  hold  him,  because  I  am  young,  and 
he  is  old  and  fat  and  soaked  with  booze,  but  he  is 
a  fighter  yet,  and  strong  as  a  bull  for  as  long  as  he 
can  last.  Besides,  he  might  have  a  gun,  I  thought. 
There  was  no  nourishment  for  me  to  be  fighting  in 
the  back  room  of  a  saloon,  and  I  wasn't  thinking  so 
much  of  whipping  him  as  I  was  of  getting  out.  I  edged 
around  towards  the  place  where  the  key  fell,  and 
as  I  stooped  to  pick  it  up  he  got  in  a  smash  on  my 
cheek  that  knocked  me  over  in  the  corner.  That 
made  me  see  red.  I  forgot  about  any  business  I  might 
have  and  decided  it  was  up  to  me  to  beat  this  maniac 
into  insensibility,  especially  as  P.  Rattigan  didn't  ap- 
pear, nor  send  in  an  alarm  for  the  police.  I  went 
at  him,  and  we  rough-housed  around  there  for  quite 


324  HUNKINS 

a  spell,  clinched  mostly,  with  Pendergrast  trying  to 
butt  my  brains  out  with  his  concrete  dome. 

"After  this  had  gone  for  what  seemed  half  an  hour 
to  me,  I  shook  him  off  and  swung  for  his  jaw.  I 
missed.  The  force  of  the  swing  threw  me  half  around, 
and  Pendergrast  caught  me  an  awful  swipe  and 
knocked  me  to  my  knees.  It  was  a  corker.  My  head 
is  buzzing  yet.  I  tried  to  get  up,  but  half  fell  over 
toward  the  floor  from  my  knees.  Then  I  looked  up 
and  saw  that  this  wild  man  had  taken  a  chair  and 
was  swinging  it  to  knock  my  block  off  with  it.  I 
leaned  over  to  one  side  to  pull  myself  away  from 
the  chair  and  my  hand  hit  my  glass  mug. 

"My  fingers  closed  on  the  handle  and  as  they  did 
an  old,  rough-and-tumble  fight  trick  flashed  back  to 
me — a  trick  I  had  seen  bar-room  fighters  use  in  the 
old  days.  If  you  hold  one  of  those  mugs  by  the 
handle,  and  hit  it  a  hard  rap  on  the  bottom,  with  just 
the  right  knack,  the  glass  will  shiver  away,  leaving 
the  handle  and  a  jagged  triangle  of  attached  glass  in 
your  hand — a  fearful  weapon.  I  felt  if  I  didn't  dis- 
able the  maniac  he  would  kill  me,  and  I  pounded  the 
glass  on  the  floor  on  the  chance  of  breaking  it  right. 
I  had  luck.  It  broke  perfectly,  and  I  had  in  my  hand 
a  weapon  that  would  stop  Pendergrast  if  I  could  land 
with  it.  He  missed  my  head  with  the  chair  but  hit 
my  left  shoulder.  It  was  a  hard  crack.  I  thought 
my  shoulder  blade  was  broken.  The  force  of  the 
blow  over-balanced  him  a  little,  and  he  swung  for- 
ward as  the  chair  came  down.  I  caught  him  by  the 
legs,  pulled  him  over  and  wriggled  out  and  up  to  my 
.feet.  He  was  up  as  quickly  as  I  was,  almost,  and 


THE  FIGHT  IN  RATTIGAN'S         325 

grabbed  another  chair.  By  this  time  I  was  as  crazy 
as  he  was.  I  side-stepped,  lifted  my  glass  weapon  as 
high  as  I  could  and  brought  it  down  on  his  head.  I 
didn't  hit  him  squarely,  but  a  glancing  blow.  He 
dropped  the  chair,  staggered  and  collapsed. '  He 
wasn't  a  pretty  sight  as  he  lay  there  on  the  floor. 

"I  took  a  quick  look  at  him,  and  saw  he  was  still 
very  much  alive,  and  trying  to  get  to  his  feet  again, 
but  not  able.  He's  game  as  they  make  them,  but 
the  cracks  I  hit  him,  especially  the  one  with  the  glass, 
and  his  age,  and  fat,  and  the  booze  put  him  out. 
I  threw  the  glass  in  a  corner,  picked  up  the  key, 
unlocked  the  door,  and  ran  out  in  the  saloon.  I  didn't 
feel  the  bumps  I  had,  then,  and  my  only  thought  was 
to  get  away,  and  to  the  meeting.  Rattigan  was  polish- 
ing glasses  behind  the  bar. 

"  'Why  didn't  you  come  in  and  stop  that?'  I  asked 
him.  'Why  should  I  interfere  in  a  friendly  debate?* 
he  asked.  'Well,'  I  shouted  back  at  him  from  the 
door,  'you'd  better  go  in  and  see  whether  your  friend 
Pendergrast  thinks  it  was  friendly  or  not.'  And  as 
I  went  out  he  started  from  behind  the  bar. 

"There  wasn't  a  street  car  in  sight,  and  I  knew  if 
I  stuck  around  there  the  police,  who  would  be  called 
by  Rattigan,  would  grab  me,  because  I  was  pretty 
much  disheveled,  not  to  say  bloody,  in  spots.  I 
ducked  into  an  alley,  cleaned  up  as  well  as  I  could  with 
my  handkerchief,  then  cut  across  to  the  Ninth  Street 
line,  and  came  along  in  the  car  until  I  could  get  a 
taxi.  This  took  me  twenty  minutes  or  so.  I  told  the 
conductor,  so  everybody  in  the  car  could  hear,  that  I 
had  been  in  an  automobile  mix-up.  Presently,  I  saw 


326  HUNKINS 

a  taxi,  got  it,  and  came  to  the  hall.  That's  all  there 
is  to  it.  Oh,  yes,  there  is  more.  I  forgot  to  say 
that  the  Emergency  Hospital  ambulance  went  past  the 
car,  beating  it  for  West  Monmouth  Street.  I  won- 
der how  Pendergrast  is.  Let's  call  up  the  hospital." 

Dowd  went  to  a  telephone  booth,  while  Steve  and 
I  discussed  the  fight.  Presently,  he  came  back  and 
said:  "I  told  them  I  was  a  friend,  and  the  doctor  said 
that  Mr.  Pendergrast  has  a  long,  clearly  incised  scalp 
wound  that,  apparently,  was  made  by  some  very  sharp 
instrument.  It  is  deep,  but  not  dangerous.  He  with- 
stood the  cleansing  of  it  and  the  sewing  of  it  very  well, 
but  he  shows  signs  of  great  mental  excitement,  even 
aberration,  and  is  now  under  restraint.  I  can  tell 
you,  boys,  that  man  is  plumb,  stark,  staring  mad  over 
his  troubles  and  the  bad  whiskey  he  tried  to  drown 
them  in  down  there  at  the  mine.  I'm  glad  he  didn't 
find  you  first,  George." 

"So  am  I,  Tommie,"  I  said,  fervently. 


I 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

I    SEEK   INFORMATION 

endorsement  by  the  soldiers  and  sailors 
not  only  gave  our  campaign  an  added  public 
interest  and  importance,  but  it  was,  as  Dowd 
said  it  would  be,  a  great  incentive  for  the 
military  organization  and  the  men  in  it.  It  gave  the 
men  something  more  concrete  to  do  than  listening  to 
speeches  detailing  benefits  to  be  obtained,  and  expound- 
ing ideals.  They  had  an  object  in  view — the  election 
of  one  of  their  number  as  mayor,  and  whatever  con- 
sequent advantages  to  the  organization  that  may  accrue 
therefrom.  Also,  there  were  constant  dispatches  in  the 
newspapers  concerning  the  progress  of  the  varied  at- 
tempts at  national  organization  for  the  men  who  were  in 
the  army  and  navy,  and  our  fellows  soon  realized  the 
better  position  they  will  hold  when  the  nation-wide 
welding  together  is  begun  because  of  their  own  solidar- 
ity. 

They  went  at  the  campaign  with  a  whoop,  holding 
meetings,  making  canvasses,  getting  their  women  folks 
interested,  and,  from  time  to  time,  dropping  in  on 
Mr.  Perkins  at  his  meetings,  and  heckling  him  good- 
naturedly.  We  heard  little  more  of  the  opposition, 
among  the  soldiers.  Phelps  tried  to  start  something, 
but  had  little  success.  Most  of  the  men  who  went  to 

327 


328  HUNKINS 

the  hall  with  him,  on  the  night  of  the  meeting,  either 
lost  interest  or  came  with  us.  There  was  a  certain 
small  percentage  of  returned  soldiers  who  refused  to 
have  anything  to  do  with  any  plan  to  get  together, 
but  we  had  the  bulk  of  the  men,  and  as  the  new  con- 
tingents arrived  home  from  France  and  the  camps 
we  enlisted  most  of  those,  also. 

Our  women's  section  of  the  campaign  committee, 
of  which  Miss  Crawford,  Miss  Harrow  and  Mrs. 
Ainsley  were  the  leaders  and  directors,  was  made  up 
of  twenty-five  carefully  selected  women,  picked  by  these 
three,  from  all  walks  of  life.  There  was  a  consider- 
able effort,  by  women  who  constantly  espouse  new 
movements  for  the  publicity  they  can  get,  and  ac- 
companying pictures  of  themselves  in  the  papers,  and 
from  society  women  who  thought  it  would  be  inter- 
esting, to  get  on  the  committee,  but  Miss  Harrow, 
Miss  Crawford  and  Mrs.  Ainsley  were  stonily  deaf 
to  their  entreaties.  They  selected  women  who  are 
genuinely  interested,  and  formed  an  efficient  and  active 
section. 

They  took  women  who  were  successful  in  war-work 
organization,  women  who  had  shown  intelligent  inter- 
est when  we  were  making  our  soldier  organization, 
women  who  had  been  of  consequence  in  former  mu- 
nicipal reform  movements,  and  several  women  who 
are  now  identified  with  labor  in  its  women-workers 
aspects.  I  discovered  that  Mrs.  Ainsley,  for  all  her 
fondness  for  frocks  and  frills,  is  a  most  attractive 
and  effective  speaker,  and  that  Miss  Harrow  is  a 
wonder  at  organization. 

My  admiration  for  Miss  Crawford,  her  serenity, 


I  SEEK  INFORMATION  329 

her  efficiency,  her  intimate  knowledge  of  poli- 
tics, her  sincerity,  and  her  enormous  capacity  for 
sustained  and  enthusiastic  endeavor  increased  daily, 
almost  hourly.  Her  relations  with  me  were 
most  business-like  and  impersonal.  I,  apparently, 
occupied  no  other  place  in  her  thoughts  than  a  can- 
didate, representing  a  certain  policy  and  principle,  for 
whom  she  worked,  not  because  of  any  particular  in- 
terest in  the  candidate,  but  because  of  belief  in  the 
policy  and  principle.  I  made  several  essays  at  estab- 
lishing a  more  personal  relation,  and  had  no  success. 
I  was  but  a  cog  in  the  machine  to  her. 

However,  I  thought  about  her  a  good  deal,  a  great 
deal,  in  fact,  and  was  conscious  of  certain  stirrings 
and  confusions  within  me  when  I  talked  to  her,  which 
I  did,  nevertheless,  whenever  she  would  give  me  an 
opportunity.  This  was  not  often,  for  she  was  busy. 
One  day  I  said  to  Steve  Fox:  "Steve,  what  is  your 
idea  of  Miss  Crawford?" 

"She's  one  of  the  finest  women  I  have  ever  known," 
Steve  replied,  so  earnestly  and  promptly  that  it  gave 
me  a  queer  little  twist,  and  caused  me  to  look  at  him 
curiously  and  wonder  what  he  meant  by  it. 

"You  don't  have  to  tell  me  that,"  I  protested.  "I 
know  it  as  well  as  you  do.  I  mean  is  she — does  she — 
darn  it — you  know  what  I  mean." 

"No,  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  either.  You 
asked  me  what  is  my  idea  of  Miss  Crawford,  and 
I  tell  you.  Apparently,  what  I  tell  you  is  not  what 
you  are  seeking.  Come  again,  George.  My  motto 
is:  I  strive  to  please." 

"Do  you  think  she  ever — that  is,  do  you  think  she 


330  HUNKINS 

has  any  idea — I  mean,  do  you  think  she  ever  will  get 
married?" 

Steve  laughed.  "Oh  ho,"  he  said.  "That's  the  way 
the  wind  is  blowing,  is  it?  Well,  I'll  tell  you,  George, 
frankly,  that  I  don't  know.  She  has  never  taken  me 
into  her  confidence  on  the  subject,  and  far  be  it  from 
me  to  mention  the  matter  to  her.  Perhaps  she  will; 
perhaps  not,  but  she's  a  woman,  and  a  darned  good- 
looking  one,  and  the  chances  are  she  will  fall  for 
some  man  some  day.  They  nearly  all  do.  But  why 
this  concern  on  your  part?  You're  not  thinking  of 
yourself,  are  you?" 

"I  might  be,"  I  said,  and  I  felt  my  cheeks  reddening. 

Steve  laughed  again.  "Good  old  George,"  he  said, 
"chap  of  insatiable  ambition.  First  he  wants  to  be 
mayor,  and  then  he  aspires  to  the  hand  of  Miss  Craw- 
ford, which  is  some  aspiration,  I'll  say.  You  surely 
are  branching  out,  George.  The  Army  did  a  lot  for 
you." 

"Oh,  Steve,"  I  urged,  "be  serious  for  a  minute. 
What  I  want  to  know  is  do  you  think  there  would  be 
any  chance  for  me?" 

"I  don't  know,"  he  replied,  "and  I  trust  I  am  suffi- 
ciently serious  when  I  say  I  have  never  noticed  a  blush 
mantling  her  damask  cheek  when  you  appear — not  yet. 
It  looks  to  me  as  if  you  stand  with  her  about  the 
same  as  the  telephone — a  useful  means  of  communi- 
cation with  the  public,  but  entirely  devoid  of  senti- 
mental reflexes." 

"Maybe  I  can  change  that." 

"Maybe  you  can.  Who  knows?  Women  are  get- 
ting married  right  along,  every  day,  notwithstanding 


I  SEEK  INFORMATION  331 

their  new  freedom.  The  good  old  marriage  certificate 
in  a  tasty  frame  still  continues  to  be  the  highest  possi- 
ble exemplification  of  a  neat  little  wall  decoration  with 
the  bulk  of  them.  They  are  the  equals  of  man,  now, 
but  you  can  bet,  no  matter  how  much  they  may  prize 
their  greater  responsibilities  and  opportunities,  they 
are  not  letting  go  of  that  handy  little  manner  of  put- 
ting man  in  his  proper  place  and  under  their  close,  per- 
sonal and  individual  management.  I  refer  to  mar- 
riage. She  might  look  with  favor  on  you.  You  never 
can  tell." 

Steve's  cynical  lack  of  sympathy  with  my  budding 
romantic  impulses  annoyed  me.  "You  might  be  more 
sympathetic,"  I  said. 

"Sympathetic,"  he  laughed.  "Why,  I'm  all  sym- 
pathy. I'll  hold  your  hand,  and  listen  to  your  maun- 
der. I'll  write  odes  to  her  for  you.  I'll  even  go  so 
far  as  to  speak  to  her  about  you,  call  her  attention 
to  you,  if  you  like,  mention  you  as  a  possible  matri- 
monial prospect,  if  she  should  be  interested  in  such 
matters.  Call  on  me  for  anything,  George.  I'm  your 
friend.  I'll  go  right  and  start  something  for  you  this 
minute." 

"If  you  do  I'll  murder  you  I"  I  exclaimed. 

"All  right,"  said  Steve,  "if  that  is  the  way  you 
look  at  it  come  on  to  that  noon-day  meeting  and  forget 
your  amorous  inclinations  while  making  a  speech  on 
your  transcendent  qualities  as  a  candidate." 

We  had  meetings  in  the  business  section  at  noon 
each  day,  which  were  addressed  by  men  selected  by 
Mr.  Mayfield  and  Dowd.  I  spoke  at  a  number  of 
these.  I  had  two  or  three  speeches  that  I  used  as 


332  HUNKINS 

the  bases  for  all  my  talking,  and  embroidered  these 
foundations  with  new  and  apt  oratory  whenever  the 
occasion  demanded.  I  found  that  I  can  say  a  good 
deal  in  twenty  minutes,  and  was  much  encouraged  over 
the  receptions  I  received. 

The  campaign  whooped  along,  with  plenty  of  noise 
and  excitement.  Dowd  and  Mayfield  kept  things  mov- 
ing everywhere.  I  took  my  assignments  each  morn- 
ing, and  made  my  speeches,  participated  in  conferences 
and  conscientiously  did  what  Steve  told  me  to,  in  order 
that  the  stream  of  publicity  he  fed  into  the  newspapers 
might  be  unfailing.  The  newspapers  were  still  treat- 
ing me  as  an  interloper.  The  News  and  the  Times 
swung  to  Perkins,  but  gave  me  a  fairly  good  show, 
but  the  Globe  and  the  Dispatch  were  violently  antago- 
nistic. They  kept  calling  for  my  proofs  that  Perkins 
participated  in  the  city  treasury  scandal,  and,  as  I 
did  not  produce  them,  said  boldly  the  proofs  do  not 
exist.  Perkins  spoke  as  often  as  I  did,  and  reiterated 
his  denials  each  day.  Dowd  had  his  soldiers  all  over 
the  city,  working  hard.  We  seemed  to  be  stronger 
with  the  women  than  Perkins  or  Spearle,  although 
there  was  a  most  imposing  organization  of  women 
for  Perkins,  and  Spearle  had  his  contingent,  also. 

Dowd  kept  track  of  Pendergrast.  Nothing  was 
said  of  his  arrival  in  the  papers,  nor  of  his  stay  at 
the  hospital.  They  hushed  that  up.  About  a  week 
after  the  fight  Dowd  reported:  "He's  all  right  physi- 
cally again.  His  head  is  nearly  healed  outside,  but 
it's  all  wrong  inside.  He's  crazy  as  a  loon.  They 
are  getting  ready  to  take  him  to  some  private  place 
where  he  can  be  treated.  They  think  if  they  keep 


I  SEEK  INFORMATION  333 

the  whiskey  away  from  him  for  a  time,  and  coax  him 
along,  he  will  come  out  of  it  all  right,  but  he's  in 
bad  shape  mentally  now.  He  sat  down  there  at  that 
mine  and  cursed  himself  out  of  his  mind.  He  has  a 
lot  of  friends  left,  though,  and  they  are  looking  out 
for  him.  Perkins  went  out  to  see  him  the  other  day." 

"He  did?"  I  said.  "Then  it's  about  time  to  spring 
that  proof  we  have." 

"Not  yet,"  said  Dowd,  and,  later,  Mr.  Mayfield 
concurred.  They  told  me  to  continue  the  policy  of 
reiteration  of  general  charges,  allowing  Perkins  to 
deny  as  much  as  he  likes. 

"Don't  be  impatient,"  they  told  me.  "We  want  the 
full  effect  of  it." 

We  ding-donged  along  until  towards  the  end  of  the 
third  week  of  the  campaign,  when  Aldebert  K.  Hoi- 
lister,  general  secretary  of  the  associated  commercial 
and  business  organizations  of  the  city — the  Board  of 
Trade,  the  Chamber  of  Commerce,  The  Commercial 
Club,  The  Rotary  Club,  and  all  the  rest — conceived  the 
idea  of  holding  a  big  noon-day  meeting  of  all  these 
bodies,  before  which  the  three  candidates  for  mayor 
would  appear,  and  make  their  claims  for  support.  All 
these  organizations  work  together,  in  various  good-for- 
the-city  enterprises,  through  a  central  body  in  which 
they  are  equally  represented.  Hollister  organized  that, 
when,  as  secretary  of  the  Chamber  of  Commerce,  he 
felt  the  need  of  a  wider  sphere  for  himself. 

Hollister  put  his  plan  before  the  various  campaign 
managers.  All  accepted  the  invitation  for  their  candi- 
dates. The  date  for  the  meeting,  which  was  to  be 
preceded  by  a  lunch,  was  fixed  for  the  following  Tues- 


334  HUNKINS 

day,  one  week  from  the  date  of  the  primary.  It  was 
expanded  to  include  representatives  of  the  women's 
organizations  also. 

"Now,  then,"  said  Dowd,  "this  is  the  place  to  let  go. 
I  have  seen  Hunkins,  and  Spearle,  and  it  is  to  be  a  sort 
of  a  triangular  debate.  Each  of  you  is  to  talk  for 
twenty  or  twenty-five  minutes,  and  then  each  is  to  have 
a  five-minute  chance  at  rebuttal.  Spearle  will  speak 
first,  you  second  and  Perkins  last.  In  the  five-minute 
rebuttal  you  will  have  the  last  crack.  I  insisted  on 
that,  and  they  consented." 

"What  sort  of  a  speech  shall  I  make?" 

"Make  the  regular  speech  as  the  start.  I  told  Hoi- 
lister  I  wouldn't  consent  unless  we  have  a  free  rein. 
Slam  at  Perkins,  and  he'll  reply.  Then,  in  your  five- 
minute  rebuttal,  spring  the  sensation  on  them.  State 
that  we  have  the  proof  that  Perkins  was  in  with  Pen- 
dergrast  and  tell  what  it  is.  Steve  has  facsimiles  of  the 
page  of  the  minute  book  ready  for  the  papers.  Make 
it  direct  and  without  qualification.  If  they  want  a 
joint  debate  we'll  give  them  one  they  will  talk  about 
for  quite  a  spell." 

At  this  time  Dowd's  canvasses  showed  that  we  were 
making  headway,  but  that  Perkins  was  not  losing  as 
many  votes  as  we  thought  he  would.  There  was  a 
greater  defection  to  us  from  Spearle  than  from  Per- 
kins. That  was  not  a  good  sign,  for  what  we  wanted 
was  to  defeat  Perkins,  and  thus  bring  the  final  con- 
test between  Spearle  and  myself,  for  we  felt  that 
Spearle  would  be  the  easiest  man  to  beat  in  the  elec- 
tion, notwithstanding  his  control  of  the  city  govern- 
ment. 


I  SEEK  INFORMATION  335 

"That  Hunkins  outfit  is  an  air-tight  concern,"  said 
Dowd.  "It  is  the  product  of  years  of  building,  con- 
serving, and  disciplining,  and  we  only  have  a  month  to 
overturn  it  in.  Notwithstanding  all  the  tom-toms  we 
have  beaten,  and  all  the  publicity  we  have  had  there 
are  many  people  in  this  city — a  great  many — who 
haven't  heard  of  us  yet,  or  if  they  have  heard  of  us 
think  we  are  trying  to  sell  something,  or  introduce  a 
patent  medicine  or  advertise  a  breakfast  food.  You 
may  think  that  is  fantastic,  but  it  isn't.  It  is  harder 
than  you  imagine  to  shake  the  people  out  of  the  ruts 
they  are  in,  and  one  of  the  ruts  the  majority  of  our 
people  are  in  is  voting  for  the  candidates  Hunkins 
hands  to  them. 

"Besides,  he  has  a  big  grip  on  the  business  men  of 
the  city.  Perkins  is  a  big  business  man  himself,  you 
know,  and  Hunkins  stands  well  with  the  older  fellows. 
He  has  done  them  favors  in  his  time.  Our  dependence 
is,  chiefly,  on  the  soldiers,  the  younger  business  men, 
the  dissatisfied  element,  and  the  women.  The  women 
seem  to  like  us  fairly  well,  although  Hunkins's  women 
are  getting  good  results.  This  thing  is  no  walk-over. 
Don't  delude  yourself  as  to  that.  Mayfield  and  I  stuff 
the  papers  with  claims  that  we  shall  win  in  a  walk,  but 
if  we  squeeze  through  we'll  be  doing  very  well.  It's 
no  cinch." 

"It  will  be  after  I  spring  that  Perkins  stuff,"  I  said. 

"I  hope  so,"  Dowd  replied,  "but  let's  not  be  too 
sure  of  it." 

Meantime,  I  fancied  I  discerned  a  slightly-increased 
degree  of  attention  in  myself,  personally,  shown  by 
Miss  Crawford.  Her  interest  in  the  campaign  was 


336  HUNKINS 

displayed  constantly  by  her  work,  and  her  efforts  to 
help  win,  but  I  thought  that,  as  these  busy  days  went 
on,  she  showed  a  trifle  more  of  recognition  of  me  as 
a  man  and  not  merely  a  candidate  than  she  had  shown. 
I  pressed  these  little  advantages,  whenever  occasion 
offered,  and  sought  to  pay  her  such  attentions  as  I  could 
to  increase  her  partiality.  We  had  several  long  talks, 
and  she  displayed  friendly  interest  in  my  course,  if 
elected,  and  discussed  my  affairs,  present  and  pros- 
pective, as  if  they  were  matters  of  some  concern  to  her. 
That  was  a  straw,  but  I  grasped  it. 

"Anything  doing  in  the  Romeo  line?"  Steve  asked 
me  on  the  morning  of  the  luncheon  by  the  commercial 
associations. 

"Steve,"  I  warned  him,  "lay  off  that,  or  I'll  punch 
you  in  the  eye." 

"Serious  as  that,  is  it?  If  that  is  the  case  better 
let  me  write  you  a  triolet  or  two.  I'm  great  at  triolets, 
and  have  a  wonderful  flair  for  the  rondel  and  the 
rondeau.  And,  say,  I'm  a  bear  at  lyrics.  Listen: 

"When  sunset  glows  into  golden  glows 
And  the  breath  of  the  night  is  new " 

"Stop  it,"  I  cried,  "or  I'll  lam  you  one.  Besides, 
you  faker,  you  didn't  write  that." 

Steve  shouted  with  laughter.  "Oh,  boy,"  he  ex- 
claimed, "the  candidate  has  been  reading  poetry.  Come 
to  think  of  it,  though,  poetry  may  not  work  with 
these  new  women  like  it  used  to  with  the  old  ones. 
Perhaps  you'd  better  quote  her  a  slug  or  two  of  one 
of  your  well-known  speeches,  or  ask  Dowd  for  some 
pointers." 


I  SEEK  INFORMATION  337 

"Whatever  I  do  I'll  do  myself,"  I  growled. 

"Excellent  idea,"  said  Steve.  "I  really  do  not  think, 
when  all's  said  and  done,  that  the  organization  should 
take  a  hand  in  affairs  of  this  sort." 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE  ACCUSING  MINUTES 


1 


was  such  a  demand  for  seats  for  the 
business-men's  meetingandluncheonthatHol- 
lister  arranged  to  use  the  Armory,  and  when 
Steve,  Do wd,Mayfi eld  and  myself  arrived,  at 
half  past  twelve,  there  were  twelve  or  fifteen  hundred 
men  and  women  there.  The  luncheon,  which  was  a 
fifty-cent  concoction  by  one  of  our  local  caterers,  neither 
occupied  nor  entertained  us  long,  and  at  a  quarter  past 
one,  Hollister,  after  preening  himself  considerably  over 
the  success  of  his  enterprise,  introduced  Spearle. 

Spearle  is  a  talker  who  knows,  and  uses  every  po- 
litical catch-word  and  phrase  that  gained  currency  in 
the  past  fifty  years.  He  rang  these  all  in,  defended 
himself  by  saying  that  he  prosecuted  Miller  vigorously, 
and  that  he,  himself,  deposed  Pendergrast;  detailed 
the  achievements  of  his  administration,  and  asked  for 
further  support.  He  constantly  referred  to  me  as  "my 
young  friend"  as  if  being  his  young  friend  was  some 
sort  of  an  affliction,  like  a  club  foot  or  a  goiter. 

Then  Hollister  introduced  me.  We  had  a  full  third 
of  our  friends  there,  and  Dowd  and  Steve  led  the  cheer- 
ing, which  was  enthusiastic  and  noisy.  I  dismissed 
what  Spearle  had  said  briefly,  calling  attention  to  the 

338 


THE  ACCUSING  MINUTES  339 

fact  that  palliate  it  as  he  might,  the  city  treasury  scan- 
dal did  occur  during  his  term  of  office,  and  then  went 
on  to  Perkins.  I  discussed  Perkins  with  candor.  I 
told  of  his  connections  with  shady  money-making 
schemes  in  which  he  used  the  city  officials  to  further 
his  own  ends,  instanced  them,  and  wound  up  with  a 
direct  statement  that  he  was  not  only  a  participant, 
but  a  beneficiary  in  the  money  taken  from  the  city 
treasury,  and  challenged  him  to  deny  it  when  he  spoke, 
not  in  the  general  terms  of  his  usual  denial,  but  in  the 
specific  terms  that  I  made  the  charge:  That  he  was 
of  the  gang,  that  he  got  some  of  the  money;  that  he 
was  a  stockholder  in  the  mining  company;  that  he  knew 
all  about  the  plan,  and  aided  and  abetted  it.  I  closed 
with  my  promises,  if  nominated  and  elected,  to  con- 
duct the  affairs  of  the  city  on  a  non-partisan,  business 
basis,  demolish  the  bosses  and  their  machines,  and  give 
the  people  a  clean,  decent,  honest  and  economical  ad- 
ministration. They  cheered  me  for  two  minutes  or  so 
after  I  finished. 

Then  it  was  Perkins's  turn.  I  had  never  heard  him 
speak,  and  watched  him  closely.  He  was  a  little  ex- 
cited, as  he  rose,  but  he  had  a  chance  to  get  himself  in 
hand,  for  his  partisans  cheered  him  fully  as  long  as 
mine  had  me.  While  the  cheering  for  Perkins  was 
going  on  I  saw  Hunkins.  He  sat  in  the  middle  of 
the  room,  and  was  waving  his  napkin  at  Perkins  and 
inciting  those  around  him  to  continued  noise.  It  was 
the  first  time  I  had  seen  Hunkins  since  I  broke  with 
him,  and  I  thought  he  looked  fit  and  confident,  some- 
what to  my  dismay. 

Presently,  Perkins  started.     He  wasted  no  time  on 


340  HUNKINS 

promises,  professions  or  policies.  He  took  a  long 
running  jump  and  landed  directly  on  me.  He  denied 
every  charge  I  made,  called  me  a  criminally-misled 
boy  for  making  them,  spoke  with  much  contempt  of 
my  managers,  and  with  sorrow  and  grief  of  my  mis- 
guided friends  and  associates  who  were  behind  me.  He 
told  of  his  own  long  life  of  rectitude  and  public-spirited 
work  in  the  city,  wept  a  little  over  his  great,  profit- 
sharing  emporium  which  he  built  from  the  ground  up, 
starting  as  a  poor  boy.  He  declared  himself  innocent 
of  any  collusion,  at  any  time,  with  Pendergrast,  or  any 
knowledge  of  this  affair,  and  devoted  his  last  ten  min- 
utes to  deprecating  me  as  a  disturber,  a  faker,  an 
egoist,  a  youth  seeking  notoriety  at  the  expense  of  lead- 
ing and  honest,  older  and  more  experienced  men,  and 
closed  by  throwing  up  his  hands  and  imploring  High 
Heaven  to  smite  him  as  he  stood  if  what  he  said  about 
his  innocence  was  not  true.  He  was  not  smitten,  and 
he  sat  down  amid  great  cheering. 

Spearle  rather  deftly  drew  a  comparison  between 
Perkins  and  myself  to  his  own  advantage,  in  his  final 
five  minutes.  Perkins  wept  and  protested  again,  and 
then  it  was  my  turn. 

I  rose,  held  up  the  book  containing  the  accusing 
minutes,  and  said,  with  such  declamatory  effect  as  I 
could  muster,  "I  have  here  a  book  recording  the  min- 
utes of  the  annual  meetings  of  the  private  mining  com- 
pany that  was  capitalized  and  exploited  by  the  money 
that  belonged  to  you  and  all  other  tax-payers  in  this 
city.  I  read  from  the  minutes  recorded  on  page  twen- 
ty-seven in  this  book :  'Annual  meeting  of  the  Progress 
Mining  Company,  April  17,  1916.  Present:  Thomas 


THE  ACCUSING  MINUTES  341 

Pendergrast,  president;  James  K.  Skidmore,  secretary, 
and  the  following  directors :  Messrs.  Larrimore,  Doni- 
phan,  Masters,  Wallace,  and ' ' 

I  stopped  and  looked  at  Perkins  who  was  staring  at 
me.  His  mouth  was  open,  his  eyes  were  twitching  at 
the  corners,  he  picked  nervously  at  the  table-cloth  with 
the  fingers  of  his  right  hand. 

"And  Perkins!"  I  shouted.     Then  I  stopped  again. 

Instantly  Tommie  Dowd  and  Steve  Fox  and  others 
of  our  fellows  jumped  up  and  raised  a  yell  of  triumph. 
Perkins  half-collapsed  in  his  seat.  I  was  trembling 
somewhat,  but  retained  sense  of  the  dramatic  enough  to 
turn  and  point  an  accusing  finger  at  Perkins  and  hold 
up  the  book  again.  They  told  me,  afterwards,  I  was 
quite  a  Nemesic  figure. 

The  room  was  in  an  uproar.  I  felt  triumphant. 
Then,  as  I  looked  out  over  the  gesticulating,  shouting, 
excited  crowd  I  saw  Hunkins,  the  only  calm  man  in 
the  room,  standing  on  a  chair  trying  to  get  the  atten- 
tion of  the  presiding  Hollister. 

"Mr.  Chairman,"  he  shouted,  at  regular  intervals. 
"Mr.  Chairman — Mr.  Chairman!" 

After  a  time  Hollister  banged  the  gathering  into 
some  semblance  of  quiet. 

"Mr.  Hunkins,"  he  said. 

"But,  Mr.  Chairman,"  I  protested,  "I  have  not  yet 
consumed  my  time." 

Hunkins  bowed.  "After  the  gentleman  has  fin- 
ished," he  said,  "I  desire  to  ask  him  a  question  or  two." 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  answer  them,"  I  said,  and  I  tore 
into  a  denunciation  of  Hunkins,  Perkins  and  Spearle, 
claiming  that  the  proof  absolute  was  there  that  Perkins 


342  HUNKINS 

was  in  the  mining  deal  as  he,  undoubtedly,  was  in  the 
street-car  deal,  and  the  telephone  deal,  and  the  electric 
light  deal,  and  demanded  of  those  present  if  they  are 
so  far  lost  to  a  sense  of  decency,  honesty  and  civic  pride 
as  to  give  these  men  further  control  of  their  municipal 
affairs. 

"No !  No  I"  they  shouted,  or  many  of  them  did.  I 
thought  there  was  a  greater  response  than  there  had 
been  in  the  preliminary  cheers  for  me.  Tommie  Dowd 
raised  his  clasped  hands  at  me,  and  shook  them.  He 
was  jubilant. 

"Now,  Mr.  Chairman,"  said  Hunkins,  after  it  was 
quiet  again,  "I  desire  to  ask  Captain  Talbot  if  he  is 
certain  of  the  authenticity  of  those  minutes?  It  would 
be  an  easy  matter  to  prepare  such  a  record — I'll  use 
the  softer  word  prepare  rather  than  the  harsher  one 
forge." 

"The  gentleman  uses  terms  to  designate  practices 
with  which  he  is  far  more  familiar  than  I  am,"  I  re- 
plied. "I  will  state  that  the  book  is  here  open  to  the 
inspection  of  every  person  in  this  room.  It  bears  its 
own  evidence  of  its  authenticity." 

"Very  well,"  continued  Hunkins,  calmly.  "I  now 
ask  if  the  name  of  Mr.  Perkins  occurs  as  Ezra  T.  Per- 
kins, or  simply  as  Perkins  without  the  given  name  and 
initial?" 

"The  names  of  the  directors  have  no  initials  at- 
tached," I  said. 

"In  that  case,"  said  Hunkins,  "I  feel  quite  sure  that 
Captain  Talbot  and  his  friends  have  jumped  at  a  wrong 
and  libelous  conclusion.  I  know  Mr.  Perkins  was  not 


THE  ACCUSING  MINUTES  343 

concerned  in  that  affair.  It  undoubtedly  is  another 
Perkins." 

Perkins  sat  limply  in  his  chair  during  this  colloquy. 
He  rose  to  it  immediately,  as  a  chance  for  an  alibi. 

"That's  it — that's  it,"  he  gibbered.  "It  wasn't  me 
— another  Perkins — that's  the  explanation — not  me  at 
all — some  other  man  named  Perkins." 

"Mr.  Chairman,"  shouted  Dowd,  "this  eleventh-hour 
attempt  to  prove  an  alibi  for  Ezra  T.  Perkins  will  not 
wash.  It  is  too  flimsy,  too  palpable,  too  absurd.  One 
look  at  Perkins,  himself,  when  this  proof  was  produced 
showed  that  the  accusation  is  true.  He  was  in  that 
deal.  lie  was  a  director  in  that  company — is  now  for 
that  matter,  and  no  protests,  no  quibbles  or  no  alibi-ing 
by  Hunkins  or  any  one  else  can  change  that  fact  nor 
save  Perkins  from  the  defeat  that  is  coming  to  him  a 
week  from  to-day  and  the  defeat  he  so  richly  deserves." 

"I'll  produce  the  proof,"  asserted  Hunkins,  with  a 
calm  assurance  that  carried  weight. 

"You  can't  do  it,"  asserted  Dowd;  and  then  there 
was  much  more  noise,  during  which  Perkins,  partially 
restored  to  equanimity  again,  shrilly  protested  it  wasn't 
him,  and  Hollister,  not  desiring  to  have  his  meeting 
end  in  a  row,  adjourned  hurriedly. 

The  afternoon  papers  carried  great  displays  on  the 
story.  Talbot  men  scoffed  at  the  claim  that  the  man 
at  the  meeting  was  not  Perkins,  the  candidate,  and 
Perkins  men  were  sure  it  was  some  other  Perkins — 
"a  common  name,"  they  said.  "Plenty  of  Perkinses 
in  the  city." 

"They'll  try  to  put  over  a  good-enough  Perkins  un- 
til after  election,"  said  Dowd,  "but  it  won't  work." 


344  HUNKINS 

That  is  what  they  did  do.  The  morning  papers 
had  statements  from  Skidmore,  Masters,  Doniphan 
and  Wallace  that  the  Perkins  of  the  minutes  was  a 
certain  Homer  K.  Perkins,  who  went  to  Mexico  in  the 
fall  of  1916,  and  was  still  there;  and  not  Ezra  T. 
Perkins. 

That  was  thin  stuff,  but  it  worked  fairly  well,  from 
their  viewpoint.  Perkins  grabbed  it,  and  protested 
his  innocence,  and  the  newspapers,  while  not  accepting 
it  entirely,  gave  the  denials  great  prominence.  We 
worked  unceasingly  to  establish  our  contention.  Dowd 
had  big  posters  made  showing  the  page  of  the  minute 
book,  with  Perkins's  name  printed  in  red,  and  appro- 
priate and  terse  sentences  calling  attention  to  the  pic- 
ture supplied  by  Steve.  We  put  out  many  additional 
speakers,  who  reiterated  the  charge,  and  set  as  many 
soldiers  as  we  could  to  the  work  of  spreading  it  by 
handbill,  and  by  smaller  posters.  I  made  six  or  seven 
speeches  a  day.  Mr.  Mayfield  put  his  whole  campaign 
committee,  women  and  all,  on  trucks,  at  street  corners, 
in  halls,  and  wherever  there  was  anything  that  would 
serve  for  a  stump.  Hunkins  had  many  men  and  women 
out,  also;  and  Spearle.  We  had  church  meetings  on 
Sunday,  and  I  occupied  a  pulpit  at  St.  Mark's  Episcopal 
church  myself  at  the  invitation  of  the  vestrymen. 

On  Monday  morning,  as  I  left  the  house,  Dad  said: 
"George,  I'll  be  waiting  for  you  when  you  get  home 
to-night.  I  shall  want  to  talk  to  you." 

"All  right,  Dad,"  I  said,  "but  I  may  be  late." 
"I'll  be  waiting.     Come  as  soon  as  you  can." 
The  last  day  was  calmer.    We  checked  up  our  can- 
vasses.    The  results  looked  fair,  only.     Much  to  my 


THE  ACCUSING  MINUTES  345 

disappointment,  there  was  no  overwhelming  victory  in 
sight.  Mayfield  thought  we  would  pull  through,  but 
Dowd  and  Miss  Crawford  were  not  so  sure. 

"Hunkins  is  a  hard  man  to  beat,"  said  Dowd.  "That 
organization  of  his  is  copper-riveted  and  air-tight.  He 
knows  this  game  from  top  to  bottom.  There's  no  use 
jollying  ourselves.  The  situation  is  this:  We  shall 
poll  all  the  soldiers,  practically,  and  a  good  many 
women.  I  figure  that  there  will  be  about  60,000  votes 
cast.  Spearle  will  get  about  20,000  of  those.  That 
will  leave  40,000  to  split  between  Talbot  and  Perkins. 
Our  job  is  to  get  21,000  votes,  and  I  don't  know 
whether  we  shall  or  not.  Our  figures  do  not  show 
it  to-night,  but  there  is  this  consolation.  Our  can- 
vassers were  inexperienced,  not  experts  like  those  Hun- 
kins  has.  I  hear  from  inside  sources  that  Hunkins 
gives  us,  at  the  maximum,  18,000  votes.  I  think  we'll 
get  more  than  that,  and  it  may  be  a  landslide.  Also, 
it  may  not.  If  we  had  two  months  to  educate  them 
it  would  be  a  cinch.  Good-night.  I'm  going  to  get 
some  sleep,  for  we  must  have  our  watchers  at  the  polls 
early,  and  I  have  that  detail  in  charge." 

I  was  discouraged  as  I  started  for  home,  but  cheered 
up  considerably  when  Miss  Crawford  said  to  me: 
"Don't  be  down-hearted,  Captain  Talbot.  It  isn't 
hopeless,  by  any  means.  I  think  we  have  a  good 
chance.  Anyhow,  the  fight  has  been  worth  while,  hasn't 
it?" 

I  thought  about  that  all  the  way  home,  making  a 
personal  application  for  the  last  part  of  her  remark. 
"Worth  while."  Maybe  that  means  worth  while  be- 


g46  HUNKINS 

cause  she  met  me.  Thus  elevated  and  encouraged,  I 
let  myself  in  our  front  door. 

"That  you,  George  ?"  Dad  called  as  I  stepped  into 
the  hall. 

"Yes,  Dad." 

"Come  into  the  library,  won't  you?" 

I  went  to  the  library,  and  as  I  entered  the  room 
William  Hunkins  rose  from  a  chair  and  came  forward 
to  greet  me  I 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

HUNKINS   TALKS   AGAIN 

WHAT  the  devil "  jerked  out  of  me  as 
I  stopped,  just  inside  the  door. 
"Am  I  doing  here?"  finished  Hunkins, 
with  that  little  laugh  of  his. 

Dad  was  laughing,  also.  "Come  on  in,  George," 
he  said,  "and  sit  down.  Don't  pull  a  gun.  This  is  a 
perfectly  pleasant  little  party." 

"But,"  I  said,  staring  at  Hunkins  to  make  sure  I 
was  seeing  straight,  "I  don't " 

"Of  course  you  don't,"  broke  in  Dad,  "but  come 
in,  and  sit  down,  and  we'll  explain." 

I  took  a  few  steps,  stopped,  and  stared  hard  at  the 
two  men.  Both  were  in  high  spirits.  Hunkins  held 
out  his  hand.  "Good  evening,  Captain,"  he  said. 
"Don't  be  hostile.  I'm  a  friendly  Indian." 

I  shook  hands  with  him  limply,  and  stood  there, 
first  looking  at  Dad  and  then  at  Hunkins.  It  was  be- 
yond me.  Several  different  explanations  came  to  my 
mind  in  quick  succession — perhaps  this — perhaps  that 
— none  satisfactory.  I  sat  down,  looked  at  the  laugh- 
ing men  again  and  said :  "I  can't  make  it  out.  What's 
the  plot?" 

"The  plot  is  all  developed,"  Dad  replied.     "We're 

347 


348  HUNKINS 

at  the  end  of  the  fourth  act  now,  where  we  all  are  pre- 
paring to  live  happily  ever  afterwards." 

"Dad,"  I  said,  "quit  beating  about  the  bush,  and 
explain  this  to  me." 

"Mr.  Hunkins  will  explain  it,"  Dad  said,  settling 
himself  in  a  chair  and  lighting  a  cigar.  "Go  ahead, 
Billy!" 

I  started  at  that;  Dad  calling  Hunkins  "Billy"  and, 
apparently  on  the  most  intimate  terms  with  him! 
"Something  wrong  here,"  I  thought.  "I  don't  like  the 
looks  of  it." 

"I'll  be  glad  to  hear  any  explanation  Mr.  Hunkins 
may  offer,"  I  said,  turning  to  Hunkins.  "It  needs  quite 
a  lot  of  clearing  up,  in  my  opinion." 

Hunkins  laughed  again.  "To  begin  with,"  he  said, 
"you  will  be  nominated  in  the  primary  to-morrow." 

"Not  by  any  help  of  yours,"  I  replied,  sourly. 

"Passing  that  for  the  moment,"  he  answered  ami- 
ably, "the  fact  remains  that  you  will  be  nominated  for 
mayor  in  the  primary  to-morrow." 

Then  it  crushed  down  on  me.  I  have  better  pros- 
pects than  Dowd  and  Mayfield  think.  I  shall  win. 
Hunkins,  because  of  his  better  machinery  for  can- 
vassing, knows  it.  He  is  here  to  make  a  deal  with 
me.  And  Dad  is  a  party  to  it.  The  shock  of  it  brought 
me  to  my  feet  with  a  passionate  protest. 

"Wait  a  minute !"  I  shouted.  "I'll  not  make  any 
deal!  If  I  win  I  win  independently,  just  as  I  have 
made  my  fight.  I'll  not " 

"Sit  down,  George,"  soothed  Dad.  "Give  Billy  a 
chance  to  talk  to  you.  You're  seeing  things.  Nobody 


HUNKINS  TALKS  AGAIN  349 

will  ask  you  to  make  a  deal,  certainly  not  we  two. 
Please  sit  down." 

I  dropped  back  into  my  chair.  "Dad  never  lied  to 
me,"  I  thought.  "He  wouldn't  begin  now.  Besides, 
the  apparent  understanding  between  the  two  can't  be 
to  my  detriment.  Dad  wouldn't  allow  that." 

"Go  ahead,"  I  said.  "I'll  listen,  but  I  warn  you 
in  advance  that  nothing  said  here  will  bind  me  in  any 
way." 

"That's  understood,"  said  Hunkins.  "We  don't 
want  to  bind  you.  We  want  to  free  you.  Now,  then, 
to  revert  to  my  original  statement :  You  will  be  nomi- 
nated in  the  primary  to-morrow.  I  shall  make  that 
certain." 

"You?"  I  shouted,  jumping  up  again.  "What  have 
you  got  to  do  with  it?" 

"Everything,"  Hunkins  continued,  calmly.  "If  I 
rescind  the  orders  I  have  already  given  you  will  be 
beaten.  But  I'll  explain  all  that  later.  If  you  will  al- 
low me,  I  shall  tell  you  a  story  that  may  interest  you, 
and  will  be  corroborated  by  your  father." 

I  looked  inquiringly  at  Dad.    He  nodded  his  head. 

"Twenty  years  ago,"  Hunkins  continued,  "when  I 
took  over  the  leadership  of  the  organization,  after  the 
death  of  Andrew  Bruce,  I  knew  your  father,  not  so 
well  as  I  know  him  now,  but  fairly  well.  He  was 
interested  in  politics  to  the  extent  that  he  wanted  to 
secure  a  better  city  government,  a  non-partisan,  busi- 
ness administration  of  the  city's  affairs,  and  he  had 
been  active  in  the  attempt.  His  activities  interfered 
with  the  plans  of  Bruce,  and  he  was  beaten  every  time 
he  essayed  anything.  The  real  reason  he  was  beaten 


350  HUNKINS 

was  not  because  Bruce's  organization  beat  him,  but 
because  the  men  who  should  have  supported  him  either 
were  indifferent,  or  were  securing  benefits  from  con- 
ditions as  they  then  existed — the  business  men,  I  mean, 
and  the  professional  men,  and  all  those  who  might 
have  fought  with  your  father.  Instead,  they  looked 
on  him  as  a  fanatic,  or  as  a  fool.  They  were  en- 
grossed in  their  business.  They  were  engaged  in  mak- 
ing money  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other  considerations, 
and  they  considered  politics  a  rotten  game,  and  let  it 
go  at  that.  They  were  keen  about  their  own  businesses, 
but  so  lax  and  indifferent  and  uninterested  in  the  busi- 
ness of  the  city,  which  should  have  been  their  chief 
concern,  they  allowed  the  boss  system  to  perpetuate 
itself,  and  went  on  careless  to  the  fact  that  the  affairs 
of  the  city  were  in  the  hands  of  men  who  were  poli- 
ticians, and  who  used  the  city's  machinery  for  political 
purposes  and  their  own  purposes  first,  and  paid  small 
attention  to  the  real  needs,  rights,  and  wants  of  the 
taxpayers,  and  citizens. 

"John  Talbot  fought  to  interest  the  men,  to  arouse 
them  to  their  opportunity,  and  he  failed.  Politics  was 
beneath  these  citizens — a  dirty  business,  fit  only  for 
muckers  and  corrupt  machines.  They  could  not  be 
made  to  see  that  the  character  of  the  government  of 
a  city,  or  a  state,  or  a  nation  is  the  direct  and  highest 
charge  of  the  men  who  live  in  that  city,  that  state  or 
that  nation,  under  our  system  of  democracy;  nor  that 
the  lack  of  character  of  that  government  is  their  sole 
and  inevitable  fault.  They  denounced  boss  rule,  and 
took  no  steps  to  destroy  it.  They  hadn't  time.  They 
must  make  money.  They  had  their  trifling  social  du- 


HUNKINS  TALKS  AGAIN  351 

ties,  their  piffling  amusements,  their  ambitions  to  out- 
shine their  neighbors  to  occupy  them.  The  criterion 
of  success  was  money,  and  the  demonstration  of  that 
success  was  ostentation  in  spending  it.  They  couldn't 
bother  with  politics. 

"I  came  into  the  leadership  of  the  organization  I 
still  lead.  As  I  say,  I  knew  your  father.  What  he 
wanted  for  this  city  was  not  only  better  government, 
but  greater  beauty  and  utility.  He  wanted  park  ex- 
tensions, finer  schools,  bigger  and  more  modern  hos- 
pitals, new  public  buildings,  an  expanded  and  efficient 
system  of  public  service  utilities — surface  lines,  light, 
power,  communication,  and  so  on.  He  wanted  to  make 
this  city  a  beautiful  and  comfortable  place  to  live  in 
as  well  as  of  the  greatest  utilitarian  development,  and 
he  came  to  me. 

"I  was  a  young  man,  and  I  had  had  a  rigorous 
machine  training  under  Bruce,  but  in  my  way  I  wanted 
the  same  things  for  this  city  your  father  wanted.  I 
had  the  same  ideas,  and  the  same  ideals,  but  I  knew, 
what  he  was  beginning  to  know,  that  the  only  way  these 
improvements  in  our  city  could  be  obtained  was  through 
a  political  conformance  to  conditions  as  they  existed. 
The  men  who  should  do  the  fighting  and  the  work 
would  not  take  the  time,  nor  engage  in  the  struggle. 

"They  were  asked,  time  and  again,  to  join  in.  Men 
with  vision,  like  your  father,  endeavored  to  convince 
them  that  the  city's  business  is  their  business,  but  it 
was  useless.  If  they  took  an  interest  it  was  but  mo- 
mentary— sporadic — on  some  especial  occasion,  or 
when  there  was  some  particular  excitement.  They 
shouted  a  little  just  before  elections,  but  the  politi- 


352  HUNKINS 

clans  work  at  all  seasons.  Hence,  what  was  to  be  done 
must  be  done  with  the  instruments  at  hand,  and  those 
instruments  were  the  politicians  and  their  machines. 

"We  figured  it  out  on  a  purely  practical  basis.  In 
brief,  it  resolved  itself  to  this:  We  decided  to  play 
the  game  with  the  cards  that  were  dealt  to  us,  instead 
of  demanding  a  new  deal.  Your  father  had  tried  to 
get  new  cards,  but  he  had  failed.  I  was  in  a  position 
to  play,  with  such  skill  as  might  be,  the  cards  that  fell 
to  me,  and  I  have  played  them  always  with  the  end 
of  helping  the  city  in  view. 

"It  has  been  a  thankless,  and  a  disagreeable  game. 
I  would  have  thrown  down  my  hand  many  times  if 
your  father  had  not  stood  by,  always,  urging  me  to 
continue,  and  showing  me  results  that  might  be  ob- 
tained. We  have  operated,  always,  on  the  theory, 
whether  right  or  wrong,  ethically,  that  the  ends  justify 
the  means,  and  what  we  have  accomplished  speaks  for 
itself.  We  have  finer  schools,  better  hospitals,  greater 
public  buildings,  a  more  useful  set  of  public  utilities 
than  any  city  of  our  size  in  the  country;  greater  parks, 
and  more  comforts  for  the  people.  To  bring  this 
about  I  have  consorted  with  these  men  you  have  had 
some  experience  of  when  I  much  preferred  to  be  at  my 
books.  I  have  used  them,  and  been  used  by  them. 
I  have  endured  abuse  and  condemnatipn.  I  have  been 
unscrupulous,  at  times,  and  have  resorted  to  many  po- 
litical devices  that  the  men  who  stand  aloof  because 
politics  is  a  dirty  game  would  be  quick  to  condemn 
as  proving  their  contention ;  but  all  the  time  there  has 
been  a  complete  understanding  between  your  father 


HUNKINS  TALKS  AGAIN  353 

and  myself,  and  a  complete  unity  of  action.  We  have 
been  beaten  often,  but  secured  results. 

"It  has  been  necessary,  at  times,  to  condone  things 
that  should  not  have  been  condoned,  either  on  ethical, 
or  some  other,  grounds ;  but  we  have  played  the  game 
that  way  because,  from  the  indifference  of  those  who 
should  have  helped  us,  we  could  not  play  it  any  other 
way.  We  used  the  tools  we  had,  according  to  the  na- 
ture of  the  tools. 

"I  have  often  thought  of  that  statue  of  Alexander 
R.  Shepherd  that  stands  in  front  of  the  District  Build- 
ing in  the  city  of  Washington.  They  drove  Shepherd 
from  the  city,  forty  years  or  so  ago,  and  exiled  him 
to  Mexico  because  he  was  a  political  boss,  and  had 
plans  for  the  improvement  of  the  city  the  near-sighted 
citizens  of  those  days  could  not  comprehend;  and  be- 
cause they  could  not  comprehend  them,  said  were  dis- 
honest— the  unfailing  state  of  mind  of  the  average 
persons.  Any  man  who  rates  higher  than  their  con- 
ventional conceptions  they  condemn  as  crazy.  Any 
plan  that  transcends  their  limited  understanding  is  dis- 
honest. After  thirty  years  they  put  up  a  statue  to 
Shepherd. 

"Now,  then,  it  is  so,  or  ought  to  be,  in  many  other 
cities.  The  people  condemn  the  bosses,  and  rightly  so, 
too,  in  many  cases,  for  I  am  not  trying  to  excuse  nor 
palliate  the  rottenness  of  politics ;  but  when  all  is  said 
and  done,  after  the  bosses  have  passed,  the  improve- 
ments remain.  The  streets  that  make  the  city  better 
are  paved;  the  schools  and  the  public  buildings  and 
the  parks,  all  are  there,  permanently  beautifying,  and 
making  the  place  better  to  live  in,  no  matter  how  ob- 


354  HUNKINS 

tained;  and  they  were  obtained  in  the  only  way  pos- 
sible because  of  the  attitude  of  the  bulk  of  the  bene- 
ficiaries, the  citizens  themselves,  who  might  have  im- 
proved their  cities,  but  left  the  job  to  others — always 
politicians.  We  knew  that,  and  that  is  what  we  have 
had  in  view  in  this  game  we  have  played  here. 

"Also,  we  have  had  in  mind  a  better  system,  for  I 
loathe  the  conditions  which  forced  us  to  this  extremity, 
and  so  does  he,  and  we  saw  an  opportunity  when  we 
considered  the  upheaval  brought  about  by  the  war. 
Your  father  came  to  me  when  you  told  him  your  in- 
tention to  go  into  politics  and  said  that  was  our  chance. 
He  would  have  come  if  it  had  been  any  other  man  of 
your  type,  for  he  is  as  unselfish  as  he  is  patriotic,  but, 
to  his  great  gratification,  and  mine,  you  offered  your- 
self, with  your  plan  to  organize  the  returned  soldiers 
into  an  instrument  for  bettering  not  only  their  own  con- 
ditions, for  putting  into  home  operation  the  ideals  for 
which  they  fought,  but  for  welding  them  into  an  organi- 
zation that  might  work  to  the  permanent  advantage  of 
all  our  people. 

"He  was  not  certain  you  were  in  earnest,  that  you 
would  stick,  for  he  knew  of  the  discouragements,  the 
lack  of  cooperation,  the  innumerable  difficulties  you 
would  have,  and  both  he  and  I  deliberately  put  you  to 
some  tests.  If  you  will  remember,  your  father's  recep- 
tion of  your  idea,  and  his  further  comments  were  not 
enthusiastic.  He  was  trying  you  out." 

I  looked  over  at  Dad  again  as  he  said  this,  and  Dad 
concurred  with  a:  "That's  true." 

"We  finally  decided,"  Hunkins  continued,  "that  you 
were  in  earnest,  and  not  merely  looking  for  an  occupa- 


HUNKINS  TALKS  AGAIN  355 

tion,  or  a  sensation,  and  then  we  made  our  plans.  I 
could  not  take  you  permanently  into  my  organization, 
for  that  would  brand  you  at  once  with  the  machine 
brand,  and  tie  you  to  machine  methods  and  processes. 
Therefore,  we  decided  to  force  you  into  an  independent 
stand,  to  make  you  fight  the  machine,  to  compel  you  to 
take  a  position  that  would  leave  you  free  to  act,  later, 
unhampered,  unpledged,  beholden  to  nobody  but  those 
you  brought  to  your  support  on  that  basis.  Nothing 
could  be  attained  if  you  were  a  machine  candidate.  We 
wanted  you  to  start  clean. 

"To  that  end,  I  put  you  in  the  board  of  aldermen 
and  gave  you  that  chance  to  expose  the  city-treasury 
scandal.  That  was  for  the  purpose  of  making  you 
known  to  the  people — pure  advertisement — and  fitting 
you  for  our  further  plans.  Then  we  told  you  enough 
about  Perkins  to  make  it  impossible  for  you  to  support 
Perkins,  and  I  deliberately  nominated  Perkins,  hoping 
you  would  take  the  stand  you  did.  If  you  had  ac-» 
quiesced  in  the  nomination  of  Perkins  our  plan  would 
have  fallen  through,  and  we  should  have  been  com- 
pelled to  wait  still  longer.  But  you  didn't.  When 
you  said  you  would  run  yourself,  feeling  certain  that 
Perkins  is  what  he  is,  a  crook  and  a  grafter  and  a 
hypocritical,  contemptible  man,  that  independent  de- 
termination gave  us  our  opportunity  and  our  job  was 
to  keep  you  up  to  that  declaration. 

"I  goaded  you  with  that  interview  of  mine,  and  I 
set  every  obstacle  in  your  way  that  would  hold  you 
to  your  determination.  I  nominated  Perkins  with  no 
idea  of  electing  him,  and  made  a  vigorous  campaign 
for  him.  I  did  not  dare  relax  any  in  my  efforts  for 


356  HUNKINS 

him  for  what  we  desired  was  the  establishment  of  you 
before  the  people  as  independent  of  any  machine,  and 
opposed  to  both.  Outwardly,  we  have  fought  you 
viciously.  We  can  beat  you.  You  have  made  a  good 
fight,  but  the  power  of  the  organization  is  too  great 
for  you.  You  are  too  new  at  it.  Your  soldiers  are  not 
in  great  enough  number.  The  ramifications  of  the 
machine,  and  the  natural  and  criminal  indifference  of 
the  men  who  should  be  for  you  operate  against  you. 

"Also,  you  haven't  had  time.  The  people  of  this 
city  are  so  accustomed  to  having  their  candidates  picked 
for  them,  have  submitted  to  that  humiliation  for  so 
long,  that  they  never  think  of  picking  candidates  them- 
selves. In  fact,  I  think  most  of  them  do  not  realize 
they  have  that  power.  We  politicians  live  because  of 
that  indifference.  There  never  has  been  a  minute  since 
we  began  voting  in  this  city  when  the  people  could  not 
destroy  any  boss,  but  they  haven't.  Notwithstanding 
the  virtue  of  your  case,  you  couldn't  uproot  that  in 
four  weeks,  and  especially  with  an  outwardly  respec- 
table candidate  like  Perkins  against  you.  The  people 
do  not  think,  often.  Thought  means  new  sort  of  ef- 
fort. They  are  creatures  of  habit,  and  their  habit  is 
to  have  their  candidates  picked  for  them.  That  is  why 
Perkins  will  get  a  lot  of  votes  to-morrow.  He's  regu- 
lar, and  so  are  most  of  the  voters.  With  another 
month  to  rouse  them  in  you  might  have  won  yourself. 

"But  you  will  be  nominated,  because  my  men,  in 
certain  wards,  will  throw  you  enough  votes  to  make 
your  selection  sure.  It  will  not  be  a  landslide,  but  just 
enough.  My  canvass  shows,  accurately,  how  many 
votes  will  be  needed,  and  they  will  be  supplied.  That 


HUNKINS  TALKS  AGAIN  357 

will  leave  the  organization  intact  for  election  pur- 
poses in  November,  but  it,  also,  will  place  you  in  a 
position  where  you  can  take  hold,  administer  the  city 
independently,  and  without  obligation  to  the  organiza- 
tion, because  I  shall  not  demand  any,  and  the  men  who 
will  do  the  work  in  the  wards  will  not  know,  until  after 
it  is  all  done  in  November,  that  there  is  to  be  this  out- 
come. 

"You  will  start  clean.  There  isn't  a  string  on  you. 
John  Talbot  and  I  have  been  working  for  twenty  years 
for  this  end,  and  circumstances  have  played  into  your 
hands  with  you,  his  son.  As  soon  as  I  can  I  intend 
to  quit.  I  am  tired  and  through.  Some  one  may  try 
to  take  my  place,  but  you,  with  your  position  and  in- 
dependence, can  soon  break  down  that  opposition.  You 
must  make  an  organization  of  your  own,  and  an  or- 
ganization in  full  harmony  with  the  present  conditions. 

"We  hope,  your  father  and  I,  that  these  new  con- 
ditions will  awake  the  people  to  their  immediate  civic 
responsibilities,  interest  them  in  their  own  polities,  and 
cause  them  to  take  active  part  in  their  own  public  busi- 
ness to  the  extent,  at  least,  of  seeing  that  it  is  non- 
partisan  and  efficient  in  its  purely  municipal  relations. 
Perhaps  you  can.  We  couldn't,  although  we  tried  hard 
enough  in  our  time.  At  any  rate,  you  have  the  oppor- 
tunity. I  congratulate  you  in  advance  as  the  next 
mayor  of  this  city  and  wish  you  all  the  success  there  is. 

"I  shall  support  you,  of  course,  but  you  must  con- 
spicuously maintain  your  own  organization,  keep  Dowd 
and  Mayfield  as  your  managers,  and  have  no  appar- 
ent dealings  with  us,  for  that  would  smirch  the  inde- 
pendence of  attitude  your  victory  will  give  to  you.  No- 


358  HUNKINS 

body  need  know  what  I  have  told  you  but  ourselves. 
The  men  who  have  my  orders  in  the  wards  will  be 
close-mouthed.  I  know  them  well  enough  to  know 
that.  So  you  are  absolutely  unhandicapped." 

He  stopped.  I  was  in  a  sort  of  a  daze,  understand- 
ing what  he  said,  but  having  some  difficulty  in  making 
the  personal  application.  His  intimation  of  secrecy 
stuck  in  my  mind. 

"Just  a  minute,"  I  interrupted.  "This  is  a  sort  of 
an  overwhelming  thing,  and  I  accept,  of  course,  but  I 
must  tell  it  all  to  Tommie  Dowd  and  Steve  Fox.  They 
have  been  with  me  all  through,  and  I  shall  not  conceal 
anything  from  them." 

"By  all  means,"  Hunkins  replied.  "I'd  tell  Mr. 
Mayfield,  too.  What  I  mean  is  that  you  are  a  poli- 
tician now,  of  a  high  grade,  I  trust,  and  should  be 
politic.  The  reasons  for  holding  it  among  ourselves 
must  be  obvious  to  you.  But  that  is  detail.  Now  you 
have  heard  the  story  and  I  wish  you  well.  I  am  going 
to  California,  for  a  long  stay,  'taking  refuge  in  my 
virtue  and  my  honest,  undowered  poverty'  as  my  fa- 
vorite philosopher,  Horace,  puts  it;  although  I  fancy 
neither  my  virtue  nor  my  poverty  will  be  conceded 
by  some  sections  of  this  community  for  a  long  time 
to  come." 

"Mr.  Hunkins,"  I  said,  "I  am  so  much  in  whirl 
over  this  that  I  can't  say  anything  to  you  but  thank 
you."  Then  I  turned  to  Dad  and  held  out  my  hands: 
"Dad,"  I  cried,  "is  this  what  it  all  means?" 

"Yes,  George,"  Dad  said,  coming  and  taking  my 
hand  in  his,  "this  is  what  it  all  means.  We  see  an 
opportunity  to  do  a  great  thing  for  the  people  if  they 


HUNKINS  TALKS  AGAIN  359 

will  help  ever  so  little,  an  opportunity  for  these  boys 
who  bore  arms  to  help  themselves  to  get  some  of  the 
rewards  they  deserve,  and  that  opportunity  is  in  your 
hands.  Will  you  use  it?" 

"Dad,"  I  replied,  and  my  eyes  were  wet,  and  my 
voice  husky,  "I'll  do  the  best  I  can." 

I  was  near  to  tears  as  I  stood  there,  and  then  the 
humor  of  it  struck  me.  "You  two  ought  to  be  actors," 
I  said.  "You  are  wasting  great  histrionic  talents  in 
city  politics." 

"We  are  actors,"  Dad  replied.  "We  have  been 
doing  a  brother  act  for  nearly  twenty  years,  but  you 
are  the  first  person  we  ever  let  in  to  see  the  show." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV] 

TWO   WINNERS 

HUNKINS  kept  his  word.    It  looked  dubious 
and  disheartening  early  on  primary  night, 
for  the  first  returns  in  showed  that  Perkins 
and  I  were  running  about  evenly,  with  a 
slight  advantage  to  Perkins  here  and  there. 

"I  guess  it's  all  over,"  said  Dowd,  gloomily.  "We're 
only  holding  even  in  these  inside  wards,  and  those 
outside  wards  always  go  for  Hunkins." 

"Cheer  up,"  I  told  him.  "Maybe  they  will  go  for 
us  this  time." 

"Not  much  chance,"  he  replied.  "The  machine  is 
strong  out  there." 

But,  as  the  later  returns  came  in  I  began  to  gain,  and 
by  ten  o'clock  I  was  two  hundred  ahead.  Mayfield 
claimed  victory,  and  the  completed  tabulation  showed 
that  I  won  over  Perkins  by  482  votes.  The  total  vote 
was  60,612,  and  of  these  I  had  20,472,  Perkins  had 
19,990  and  Spearle  20,150. 

"Not  many,"  exulted  Steve,  "but  as  good  as  a  mil- 
lion !  I  wonder  what  line  from  Horace  Brother  Hun- 
kins  pulled  when  he  got  that  news.  Oh,  you  little  four 
hundred  and  eighty-two  votes !  I'll  bet  Hunkins  is  so 
sore  he's  biting  a  file.  I'd  hate  to  be  those  ward  leaders 
when  he  gets  them  on  the  carpet." 

360 


TWO  WINNERS  361 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  I  said. 

"Oh,"  jeered  Steve,  "you  don't  know!  Well,  I  do. 
He's  a  hard  loser,  that  Hunkins  person  is." 

Just  then  a  clerk  came  in  to  tell  me  to  come  to  the 
telephone  on  an  urgent  call.  When  I  returned  I  asked 
Steve:  "Who  do  you  think  that  was?" 

"Somebody  asking  for  a  job?" 

"No;  it  was  Hunkins,  offering  his  congratulations." 

Steve  whistled,  and  Dowd  looked  incredulous.  Then 
I  took  the  two  of  them  and  Mr.  Mayfield  into  an  in- 
side room,  and  told  them  the  story.  They  listened 
without  comment  until  I  had  finished. 

Then  Dowd  said :  "Well,  I'm  glad  it  happened,  al- 
though I  wish  we  could  have  put  it  over  ourselves. 
However,  the  time  was  too  short,  and  we  didn't  have 
the  votes;  but  I'll  tell  you  one  thing  and  that  is  this: 
In  another  month  it  would  be  different.  We'd  have 
a  lot  more  soldiers,  and  were  gaining  with  the  general 
public  every  day." 

"In  my  opinion,"  said  Mr.  Mayfield,  "it  is  an  excel- 
lent result.  We  win,  and  we  have  shown  enough 
strength  to  force  the  organization  to  stand  behind  us 
to  make  it  sure  in  November.  Those  fellows  will  go 
to  bat  on  election  day  thinking  their  support  then  will 
hold  things  as  they  are.  We'll  welcome  their  votes, 
and  make  no  promises,  and  if  we  win  then  we'll  be 
free-handed." 

"It's  all  right,  Tommie,"  I  said,  "if  it  hadn't  been 
for  you  and  Steve  and  the  work  you  did  at  the  start 
I'd  had  no  votes  at  all;  and  I'll  never  forget  it." 

Mr.  Mayfield  discreetly  withdrew,  and  Tommie, 
and  Steve  and  I  held  a  little  jubilation  of  our  own, 


362  HUNKINS 

where  I  had  a  chance  to  tell  them  just  how  much  their 
friendship,  loyalty  and  support  meant  and  will  always 
mean  to  me. 

There  wasn't  much  excitement  in  the  campaign  that 
followed.  Mr.  Mayfield  announced  that  our  organi- 
zation would  continue,  and  work  independently  for 
my  election.  Perkins  talked  some  about  a  recount, 
but  that  came  to  nothing  for  Hunkins  sent  a  cordial 
statement  to  the  papers,  acknowledging  defeat,  and 
assuring  us  of  the  organization  support,  but  not  at- 
tempting, in  any  way,  to  interfere  in  our  plans  nor 
campaign.  His  men  kept  on  the  job  at  his  direction, 
and  his  cooperation  was  effective  but  in  no  way  com- 
promising to  my  independent  status. 

I  made  many  speeches,  Mayfield,  Dowd,  and  Miss 
Crawford  worked  continuously,  and  Steve  Fox,  who 
had  gone  back  to  his  newspaper  desk,  filled  the  News 
with  Talbot  articles,  because,  now  that  Perkins  was 
beaten,  the  News  supported  me  enthusiastically.  I 
omitted  the  Perkins  condemnation  from  my  speeches, 
and  went  after  Spearle.  The  Globe  and  the  Dispatch 
were  frantically  for  Spearle,  and  assailed  me  bitterly, 
but  that  didn't  bother  me.  I  was  used  to  newspaper 
attacks  by  that  time. 

I  saw  Miss'  Crawford,  at  the  headquarters,  every 
day,  and  angled  assiduously  for  some  evidence  of  more 
than  a  casual  interest  in  me.  She  was  cordial,  always, 
and  sometimes  more  than  that,  I  thought,  but  I  couldn't 
prove  to  myself  anything  but  friendliness,  often  as  I 
analyzed  every  look  and  every  remark  after  I  had 
talked  to  her. 

On  election  night  Dad  arranged  to  have  the  returns 


TWO  WINNERS  363 

sent  to  the  house,  and  gave  a  party.  All  our  campaign 
committee  came,  and  some  of  his  friends.  The  good 
news  began  to  come  soon  after  the  polls  closed  and  by 
nine  o'clock  my  election  by  a  big  majority  was  assured. 

It  was  a  joyous  and  jubilant  gathering.  Dad  was 
so  tickled  he  became  almost  inarticulate.  People 
crowded  around  me  and  congratulated  me,  calling  me 
"Mr.  Mayor"  and  otherwise  pleasantly  disporting 
themselves.  After  many  trials  and  various  excuses,  I 
managed  to  attract  Miss  Crawford  to  the  library  which 
was  unoccupied  because  the  refreshments  were  in  an- 
other place.  I  had  worked  up  enough  courage  to  put 
my  hopes  into  something  more  than  secret  language. 
She  was  very  happy  over  the  victory,  and,  it  seemed 
to  me,  more  attractive  than  she  ever  had  been. 

I  had  planned  a  most  effective,  as  I  thought,  plea  to 
make  to  her,  which  was  mostly  about  needing  her  to 
help  me  continue  the  work  now  so  well  begun.  I  tried 
to  say  it,  but  couldn't.  Instead,  I  stammered,  stum- 
bled and  finally  managed  to  emit  a  banal:  "I  have 
something  to  say  to  you." 

"I  know  it,"  she  said,  "and  I  wish  you  wouldn't." 
She  smiled  kindly,  but  not  at  all  affectionately,  at  me. 

"Why  not?"  I  asked,  hurt  and  surprised.  "I  am 
going — that  is,  I  want  to " 

"Don't  do  it,"  she  said,  earnestly.  "What  you  in- 
tend to  ask  me  is  to  be  the  wife  of  the  future  mayor, 
isn't  it?" 

"Yes,  but  how  do  you  know?" 

"Women  have  ways  of  knowing  those  things,  even 
political  women,"  she  laughed;  "but  forgive  me.  I  do 


364  HUNKINS 

not  mean  to  joke  about  it.  I  am  sorry,  very  sorry,  but 
what  you  seek  is  impossible." 

That  staggered  me.  "Why  is  it  impossible  ?"  I  asked 
her  with  all  the  joy  of  my  election  gone  out  of  me. 

"Because,"  she  said,  smiling  radiantly,  "I  am  going 
to  be  the  wife  of  the  future  Senator  from  this  state." 

"Who?"  I  gasped. 

"Tommie  Dowd." 

That  was  a  facer.  I  never  even  suspected  it.  I 
rallied  as  well  as  I  could,  and  took  her  by  both  her 
hands.  "I  am  glad,"  I  told  her,  and  I  meant  it,  too, 
"so  long  as  it  can't  be  me  that  it  will  be  Tommie 
Dowd." 

"I  know  you  are,"  she  said. 

Just  then  I  heard  Steve  Fox  calling:  "George, 
where  are  you?  Come  here." 

"Come  here,  you,"  I  answered,  and  Steve  came  in. 

"Where's  Tommie?"  I  asked  him. 

"Outside  somewhere." 

"Bring  him  in  here." 

Steve  was  back  in  a  moment  with  Dowd. 

"Tommie,"  I  said,  "I  congratulate  you.  You  are 
the  biggest  winner  in  this — the  luckiest  man  of  the. 
lot." 

"How  so?"  he  asked. 

"You  have  elected  your  man  mayor,  you  have  organ- 
ized your  soldiers,  and  you  are  going  to  marry  Miss 
Crawford." 

Dowd  blushed  like  a  girl.  "Who  told  you?"  he 
asked. 

"Miss  Crawford  did,"  I  said,  "so  I  think  it's  au- 
thentic." 


TWO  WINNERS  365 

"But,"  stammered  Dowd,  uwe  didn't " 

"Hurray  1"  interrupted  Steve.  "No  matter  what 
you  did  or  didn't.  You  are — that's  the  point.  And," 
turning  to  me,  "I  never  guessed  it  and  it's  been  going 
on  right  under  our  eyes  all  this  time." 

"You  have  nothing  on  me,  Steve,"  I  admitted,  rue- 
fully, "I  never  guessed  it,  either." 

"That  being  the  case,"  said  Steve,  "the  place  for 
two  such  poor  guessers  is  outside.  Come  on,  you're 
needed  there,  and  you  are  not  needed  here." 

As  he  led  me  out,  I  heard  a  band  blaring,  and  the 
tramp  of  many  feet. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked. 

"Your  constituents  are  arriving  to  remind  you  of 
those  jobs  you  promised  them." 

"Speech!     Speech!"  cried  the  crowd. 

Steve  pushed  me  out  on  the  porch,  and  Dad's  guests 
crowded  behind  me.  I  made  my  speech  to  an  enthu- 
siastic and  admiring  audience.  There  were  two  per- 
sons who  might  have  listened  but  who  did  not.  I  refer 
to  Miss  Esther  Crawford  and  Thomas  James  Dowd. 


THE  END 


uc  sou 


A    000071302     4 


